


Cuun Tracinya

by Shelaar (JonathanAnubian)



Series: Setting Souls Aflame [1]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alien Biology, Clone Sex, Compulsion, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Morality, Fake Character Death, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force-Sensitive Clone Troopers (Star Wars), Grief/Mourning, M/M, Manda is alive and it is a dragon, Multi, No Chips, Pack Dynamics, Possessive Behavior, Power Exchange, Protective clones, Rating May Change, Revolution, Symbiotic Evolution, Tags May Change, Taung Ancestry, Tired Mace Windu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:34:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26782984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonathanAnubian/pseuds/Shelaar
Summary: Kote was raised to believe the jedi were near gods of infinite power who only accepted the best of the best. But when he meets an injured soft eyed man with coppery hair and a sweet smile- he realizes that jedi are more fragile than he'd been led to believe.Something about this man, his gentle sincerity, endless kindness, and fiery determination, calls out to him. Calls out to all of the vode. They were told they were created for the jedi. But Kote can't help but thinking that maybe... it was the jedi who were made for them.
Relationships: 212th Attack Battalion/Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody/CT-7567 | Rex, CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi/CT-7567 | Rex
Series: Setting Souls Aflame [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2070174
Comments: 288
Kudos: 1153





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Before you read!
> 
> This is **Not** an Omegaverse fic. Pack Dynamics and Hierarchy =/= Omegaverse. There will be no Heats or Ruts in this fic. The mental/force bonds are non-sexual in nature. There is no biological **need** to mate. Just some higher than average levels of horniness from a bunch of affection starved clones.

The first thing they learned as cadets was that they were made for the Jedi. All powerful and aloof beings that would find them wanting if they weren’t good enough, fast enough, strong enough, or smart enough. The second thing they learned was what happened to those who didn’t make the cut. The brothers who disappeared one cycle and never returned. The ones with the wrong color of hair or eyes, the ones who had trouble learning, the ones whose hands shook when they whispered late at night ‘I can’t do this anymore.’

Nothing but the best would do for the Jedi.

Rising through all of that was a near impossible task and yet some vode found solace in the struggle, in the challenge. Kote was one of them. Jango himself had named the future clone commander after a particularly nasty test called the Gauntlet. Kote had stood tall against the challengers and held his position at the top, never allowing a single vod or even trainer to unseat him. He was moved straight to the command track the next day.

As they grew they were introduced more and more to the idea of Jedi and what serving the Republic would be like. Soldiers, they were, and fighting was in their blood. But something struck Kote as odd. What he could find of the Jedi painted them not as war heroes but as some kind of peace keeper. He began to wonder why the Jedi, powerful beings of near limitless power with the ability to move things with their mind, would need an army. If one of them was worth an entire battalion… then why were there battalions to begin with?

The first time he saw a Jedi he knew immediately who and what they were. Brown robes, soaked from the rain, and pale skin that could barely be seen from under the wide hood. A thrill of anticipation ran through him. He had so many questions he wanted to ask, so many things he needed to know.

Then the hood came down and he froze. Copper locks, the likes of which he’d never seen before, and liquid blue eyes that made his heart speed in his chest. “Huh, Stewjoni. Don’t see that every day.” Two of the trainers had been doing a review of the troops, pitting them against each other in some sort of game to see how well they could think on the field. Both of them stopped to watch the Jedi as they passed. “Wonder how the Jetii manage to keep them away from all the slavers. Stewjoni are a rare breed.” Kote’s eyes followed the Jedi until they were out of sight- he needed to do research.

Stewjoni, it turns out, were a race of near-humans who were known for their high fertility and advanced adaptability. They could survive, and even thrive, almost anywhere. Them being a Jedi just made all the more sense to him now. And yet… the Jedi had looked so small next to the Kaminoans. There was something almost meek and gentle about them that made Kote frown in concern. He hoped he would be able to see them again and ask all the questions burning a hole in his mind.

Kote, and a large chunk of the command class, had never really put much stock in the Force or the Manda the trainers occasionally spoke about. So when he came across the Jedi again on his way to a class he was stunned still for a moment. The Jedi, who really needed a name, leaned against the white walls as if trying to keep themselves standing. Their cloak was gone and their uniform was soaked through, as if they’d decided to take a swim in the raging ocean below. Their hair was almost the color of blood and there was a bruise on their cheek. Kote started when he realized they were wounded.

“Sir!” The Jedi turned to look at him and fear crossed their face for a moment before it was hidden behind a blank mask. Kote knew that expression well and it shocked him to the core to see it one someone who was supposed to be his superior. “Let me help you to medical, Sir.” He said quietly, holding up his hands in a placating gesture often used on the more skittish of the young cadets. The Jedi gave him a small smile, trying to wave him off.

“Oh, no, I am perfectly fine. No need to see a medic. I’m only catching my breath.” They looked up at him, straightening, and Kote was surprised to find the Jedi was smaller than he was. Not by much, but it was enough. Funny, he’d never thought they would be smaller than he and his brothers. “Your, um, template?” The question was tentative, as if the Jedi wasn’t quite sure how to ask.

“The Prime.” Kote answered easily enough, liking the way the Jedi’s expression softened to appreciation.

“Ah, yes, thank you. The Prime, that is Jango, and I had a bit of a disagreement. I’m afraid my ship was utterly destroyed before he tossed me into the ocean.” There was a lightness to their voice, a hint of humor. It almost made him ignore the statement itself. Almost.

“The Prime did what!?” The Jedi shrank back slightly, as if worried about his reaction to the news. Honestly Kote was surprised he could read the nearly inexistent body language, especially with the loose clothing they were wearing. But there was something so expressive about their eyes, something that drew him in. “Sir, please at least let one of my medics check you over.” Knowing that the Jedi were supposedly mind readers he tried to force sincerity and concern into every single word. The Jedi shuddered slightly and licked his lips before slowly nodding. In relief Kote reached out and took the Jedi’s nearest arm, putting it over his neck and slipping an arm around the Jedi’s back to help him walk.

“This is completely unnecessary, you… ah.” Kote looked down at them when they faltered, finding the slight flush of their skin to be endearing. “I’m afraid I didn’t get your name.” Kote frowned slightly.

“Sorry, Sir. I am CC-2224.” There was a very pointed silence for a moment that he could almost feel. The hand over his shoulder clung even harder to his armor for a moment. “Or… you could call me Kote, if you prefer.” It was a risk, a gamble. There was no reason to believe a Jedi would care about something so simple as a name. Yet the relieved smile he received was enough to make his tense shoulders relax.

“Thank you for trusting me with your name, Kote.” The Jedi blinked for a moment, then frowned. “Is it Cody, or Glory? Like Darasuum Kote?” Hearing the Mando’a fall from their soft lips so easily made something light up inside him, something he couldn’t explain or control. He had to swallow hard past the sudden lump in his throat in order to reply.

“Bal kote, darasuum kote.” He murmured, feeling the tips of his ears burn.

“Suvarir. Kote it is.” They paused and a sheepish look crossed their face. “My name is Obi-wan Kenobi, He/Him, I am a Knight of the Jedi Order.” Kote tilted his head, wondering what that was in terms of rank. The Jedi were supposed to be their Generals, so he suspected it was something in that vein. He also didn’t miss how the Jedi had labeled himself as male, or at the very least using male terms. Kote would have to be sure to use them. Some of the trainers got particularly incensed when you messed up and called them by the wrong term.

As they walked further into Tipoca city every brother they passed quickly snapped to attention, trying desperately to hide the surprise and glee at finally seeing a Jedi in their midst before realizing that he was hurt. Even without looking Kote could just feel the sudden worry and concern, like a tangible sensation against his skin. Under his arm the Jedi shivered, although he couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or from the thoughts of his brothers around them. Eventually he sat them down in a common area and barked for a medic. The battalions had been assigned for half a year now, so everyone already knew their place. Where Kote went the rest of his battalion wasn’t far behind. So it wasn’t really a surprise when Stitch practically materialized next to them and began to fuss.

“Sir, what happened to you?” There was a hush as the clones waited to hear the Jedi speak. Kote already knew what his voice sounded like and even he was excited to hear that voice once again. The Jedi looked around at them wide eyed and politely cleared his throat.

“As I was telling Kote on the way here. I had a… disagreement with the Prime.” He glanced to Kote, as if trying to gauge whether he’d said it right. Kote gave him a small nod of acknowledgment and the Jedi continued. “We fought and my ship was destroyed. I ended up in the ocean, it was all quite unpleasant.” The hushed anticipation turned to awe. Even with their superior genetics none of them had ever been able to go toe to toe with the Prime. The fact that the Jedi didn’t have any broken limbs or was bleeding out all over the floor was impressive to say the least.

Stitch tugged at the Jedi’s clothes and got an annoyed look in response. The medic just scowled imperiously. “Sir, I can’t check you over properly unless you remove your… tops.” They weren’t quite sure what to call the loose cloth that covered the Jedi but it was obviously in the way. Seeing no objections, no one to back him up, the Jedi let out a sigh and finally complied. Kote tried not to stare at the pale scarred flesh, only focusing on the spreading yellow bruise over his right side. For the first time in his life he felt a small pang of jealousy as Stitch ran careful fingers over pale skin.

“Sir, you have at least three cracked ribs, multiple contusions, and a twisted ankle. I can administer a pain killer and some bacta, but that’s the best I can do at this time. I’m only a medic.” The Jedi smiled and shook his head.

“Really, there’s no need, I’ll be f-”

“What’s all this?” An unwanted voice called into the quiet moment of awe. Kote clenched his fists even as he straightened in response to a voice that he had been taught to obey. Sergeant Priest shoved past the troopers milling about. The man stopped once he could finally see the Jedi and his face contorted with disdain. “Jetii!” He hissed, reaching for his weapon.

Without a second thought three of the vode tackled the training sergeant to the floor. It didn’t matter if they were scared of him, it didn’t matter that he had a weapon and they had none, Priest had attempted to attack the Jedi. The Jedi who had been wounded in a previous fight and was sitting there amongst them, looking small and vulnerable. All of their instincts kicked in as the need to protect the Jedi took over.

“Get off of me!” The sergeant growled, trying to kick and punch the vode who were holding him down. The Jedi rose from the bench and moved closer to the struggling men. Kote wanted to reach out and stop him but found himself rooted to the spot when those blue eyes darkened to a stormy gray. Priest stopped moving and glared up at the Jedi. “You’re Kryze’s pet jetii, dar’manda whore!” He spat, face reddening with anger and strain. The Jedi stiffened in surprise before reaching out a hand and holding it above the sergeant’s face.

“Sleep.” Sergeant Priest shook his head vigorously, though his struggles were becoming weaker. “Go to sleep.” The Jedi wasn’t loud or even particularly forceful but there was something firm in his voice that felt unnatural, otherworldly. Priest’s eyes rolled back slightly before he slumped to the ground, unconscious. Whatever he’d done had rendered the man no longer a threat. The vode who had been holding onto him relaxed and slowly got up.

“Sir, we’ll see to it he’s locked up.” The Jedi smiled, though he wavered slightly on the spot.

“Thank you. I don’t want him to hurt anyone else.” There was a pause and a sigh. “I didn’t think that Jango Fett would allow Kyr’tsad anywhere near him, let alone allow someone like that to train his…” He shook his head almost sadly before he seemed to remember he had an audience.

Now that the danger was over there was more than one vod whose eyes were slowly trailing over his still unclothed chest and back. The Jedi’s face flushed beneath his beard and he shuffled nervously on his feet for a moment. “Sir, sit down and let me do my job. You need bacta. I’m worried about that sprain.” Thankfully Stitch was a persistent bastard of a vod and quickly hustled the Jedi back to the bench.

“Kote!” Turning he spied his favourite brother and smiled. Rex was a little winded, he’d probably run the entire way. Skidding to a stop next to him his brother opened his mouth to ask a question but stopped. His eyes had continued onward toward the odd splash of color in their midst and suddenly whatever his brother had meant to ask was gone to the void. Rex’s mouth hung open as he gaped at the half naked Jedi. Kote nudged him with an elbow and Rex shook for a moment, as if pulling himself out of a daydream.

“Is that-” Kote nodded.

‘Jedi. Mine. Get your own.’ It was only meant to be a playful jab, a throwaway joke, but something deep in his mind curled around the idea, clinging to it. The clones had been made for the Jedi, of course they would belong to them. But… why? Why did they need the clones if they were so powerful? He knew the Kaminoans were constantly lying, during testing, during class. Even the training sergeants disliked and distrusted the Kaminoans. So why should they blindly believe-

His brother responded by slapping him on the back of the head, which immediately broke through his thoughts. He glared at Rex, who gave him a cheeky smirk in return.

“Oh, hello there.” That soft voice called out to them. Rex turned to look at the Jedi and froze, expression carefully blank. Kote knew he was worried what the Jedi would think of him. After all the strict training and harsh testing Rex had been through, solely due to the color of his hair, he knew his brother was expecting to be found wanting. Even if he was one of the most talented vode.

“Sir.” Rex said, sanding at attention. The Jedi’s smile faltered slightly for a moment but it quickly returned.

“Who might you be?” Rex glanced at Kote, who signed a quick ‘designation,’ at him. His brother took a breath.

“CT-75-” The Jedi waved his hand in the air and Rex’s mouth shut with a snap.

“Oh, no, I… if you happen to have a name you prefer? I would be more than happy to use it.” Kote watched Rex as his brother digested the Jedi’s words before giving a slow, wary, nod.

“Rex.” The smile his brother received was one that Kote would be unable to forget as long as he lived. It was like seeing the sun for the first time.

“Oh thank the force! Please, if you all have names I would be honored to use them. None of this numbers business.” He faltered slightly, looking around. “Unless of course you prefer your numbers, in which case I will honor your decision and do my best to remember.” It was like a shock wave went through them. No one had ever told them they had a choice before.

“Thank you, Sir.” The Jedi looked up at him oddly, a slight frown on his lips.

“For what, Kote?” Stars, he could get used to hearing his name in that soft lilting voice.

“For using our names.” For giving them the choice to use them. A fierce look came over the Jedi and he stood, arms crossed over his chest.

“It’s what you all should have had from the beginning. You are all sentient beings with your own thoughts, feelings, and preferences. Each and every one of you shines differently in the force. You may look alike on the surface, Kote, but you are all unique.” A hush fell over them all as he spoke. There was a fire inside the Jedi that touched something within them, setting the tinder in their souls aflame.

“Sir.” Kote said, stepping closer and giving a proper salute. “We are at your command.” His, and no one else’s. Kote had already decided. This Jedi was his and he would kill anyone who tried to get in his way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have No idea where this is going. Let's see what the fickle muse has in store.

Once Stitch had finished fussing over his Jedi the man quickly slid his clothes back on. Kote could tell that his brothers were just as disappointed as he was by this but thankfully his Jedi must not have noticed as he began asking for access to a comm unit. Apparently it needed to be powerful enough to reach the Republic Capital. Kote shared a look with Rex, knowing that there was no way they could get his Jedi a comm without breaking every rule the Kaminoans had ever imposed on them. After a moment Rex’s expression grew into a wicked smirk, mischief clear in every line of his body.

“Sir, we don’t have access to that sort of equipment down here in the training areas. But we could always ask the Alphas.” A low hiss of displeasure and groans of annoyance came from practically every vode. While they all accepted that the Alphas were, in fact, vode an, they didn’t necessarily like the stuck up buggers much. “Kote, you were named by the Prime and taught by 17, they tolerate you more than the rest of us. Why don’t you take him with you to ask them?” Kote’s eyes narrowed at Rex but he couldn’t sense even a hint of danger. If anything there was almost a smugness to the air around his brother.

“Sounds like a plan. What do you think, General?” His Jedi blinked wide blue eyes at him, stiffening at the title in a way that made the vode pause. That… was not a good reaction.

“Jedi are not Generals. They do not lead armies.” There was something almost cagey about the way he spoke, as if he couldn’t quite make that claim for himself. “I understand that you have been taught that the Jedi are to lead you into battle?” He received affirmative nods in response. “Whoever decided to teach you this… they…” It was clear the man didn’t want to upset them, which was a little baffling, if nice.

“I’ve suspected for a while now that the Kaminoans and trainers were not telling us the truth.” Kote finally said. Around him vode gasped and took a step back, as if worried the Kaminoans would suddenly descend upon them and make him disappear. “I did what research I could. You are peacekeepers, but also warriors.” His Jedi smiled at him directly and it made his heart flutter in his chest.

“That is exactly right. Jedi do not seek to start violence but we are very adept at ending it.” The man shook his head. “But we are getting off topic. I must contact the Jedi Council about Jango Fett.”

“Yes, Sir. This way.” Stitch frowned at them but chose to stay quiet as Kote placed a hand against his Jedi’s back and motioned him toward the hall. There was almost a feeling of electricity that ran through him and he wondered at the sensation. Whatever it was his Jedi didn’t seem to notice so Kote let it go.

The halls he took his Jedi down were all mostly empty. It was the long way around but for some reason he knew that they couldn’t let the Kaminoans get involved. Since his Jedi didn’t try to correct him or call him out on his subterfuge, only remained quietly at his side shivering every now and then, Kote suspected the man was choosing not to question him. Choosing to trust him. That trust was doing something to Kote that he really didn’t want to think about right then.

After his Jedi let out a sudden sneeze Kote frowned. The halls weren’t particularly cold but they weren’t warmed either. Clones ran a lot hotter than most species, although why that was he didn’t actually know. Could Jedi get sick?

Before he could ask if the man wanted to get a different set of clothes, or at least dry his hair, they came to the barracks that housed the Alphas. There had been talk of putting them in stasis until they were needed but the Prime had convinced the Kaminoans they could be useful as training sergeants for the Command Class clones, like Kote. The Alphas were like Prime’s own personal battalion. He wasn’t sure how they would react to his Jedi, the Prime hadn’t spoken well of Jedi and considering the man had just tried to kill his Jedi… maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“Kote!” Oh well, too late to rethink it now. “What the hell are you do- is that a kriffing jetii?” His Jedi stilled, going quiet as if he could somehow disappear from sight with willpower alone. Kote couldn’t help himself. He stepped in front of his Jedi and addressed the Alpha clone.

“51, I’m looking for 17. An urgent matter has come up.” The older clone came closer, scowling.

“What the hell could be so damn important you’d-” Kote drew himself up and stared the Alpha clone in the eyes. The older clone faltered slightly, looking baffled that one of the ‘lesser’ clones would dare challenge him. Then he seemed to remember exactly who Kote was and shrank away ever so slightly. Kote had to force himself not to smirk in triumph.

“The Jedi fought the Prime. Prime blew up his ship and left Kamino.” 51’s mouth closed slowly and Kote could practically see the gears turning behind his eyes.

“Come on then, 17 was in the gym last I saw.” Turning to look behind him Kote smiled at his Jedi who looked mildly perturbed but smiled back.

“Is this 17 someone of high rank?” He whispered next to Kote’s ear, trying not to alert Alpha-51 no doubt. Kote was about to sign at him but realized that his Jedi probably wouldn’t know their hand signs.

“Officially, no. But he carries the most sway with the Alphas.” His Jedi frowned slightly.

“Why? Is it the lower designation number?” Kote shook his head. It was just a natural part of the clones lives. Even at a young age they seemed to fall into a hierarchy that the Kaminoans and trainers just couldn’t understand. It was subtle, something only another clone might notice, and so instinctual he was surprised the clones themselves had noticed it at all. There was just something that drew everyone to a certain clone, something about them that oozed competence, leadership, and safety. Like a force given right to lead the others.

17 was the go-to leader for the Alphas with 55, Fordo, as his second. Ordo led the Nulls, with Mereel taking over when his vod was indisposed, though the Nulls as a whole deferred to Skirata. Kote had been the leader of the Commanders for as long as he could remember and Rex had fallen in as his second in command as if he’d always been there. It didn’t matter that he was a CT, everyone knew he had the authority to back up his orders for the simple fact that he was different and had survived the Kaminoans without being decommissioned. The Commandos didn’t have the same kind of leadership dynamic as the rest of the clones, instead following a clan based hierarchy within their own small squads that not even Kote wanted to try and parse out. But if it worked for them it wasn’t his business to stick his nose in.

Entering the gym he noticed a few of the other Alphas and gave them a polite nod as 51 vanished into the fresher in the back. A few minutes later 17 came stalking out of the fresher solely in his blacks, looking like a feral predator. His attention strayed form Kote over to the Jedi and a spark of interest lit in his eyes. A small smile, one that was easy to miss if you didn’t know the man, twitched his lips upwards for a moment before he came to sit on a bench nearby. Kote’s fists clenched at his side. 17 should have remained standing. It was respectful as they were both leaders. For him to sit in Kote’s presence was a subtle move to undermine his authority. He knew that 17 wanted him to challenge the older clone, wanted to show who was more worthy of the position of leader, but Kote was fine with how things were now. He didn’t want the Kaminoans to notice their hierarchy and try to dismantle it by decommissioning those in leadership positions. The clones needed strong leaders in order to feel less stressed and act as a more cohesive unit.

The other Alphas watched the two of them almost warily, as if sensing a possible confrontation. “Kote, me’vaar?”

“He understands Mando’a so you might as well speak Basic.” The interest in his eyes only grew as the older clone turned toward his Jedi and made more of a show of looking him up and down. His eyes strayed up to Kote’s Jedi’s copper hair and stay there for a moment before he finally glanced at Kote.

“Does he, now?” His voice was a near purr that had the redhead glancing between them, wide-eyed with confusion. Kote wanted to growl in response but swallowed the sound.

“I do. I spent a year on Manda’yaim and although I am not wholly fluent I am quite skilled in the language.” 17 actually grinned and it set Kote on edge.

“So, why is a jetii, a Stewjoni jetii, coming to the Alpha class?” Not wanting to play any games, and feeling a flash of something hot in his spine at the way 17 was leering at his Jedi, Kote stepped in front of the redhead again. He could feel the copper haired man taking a step back and was glad when he didn’t protest.

“Al’alor, the Jedi fought the Prime before he fled Kamino. Knight Kenobi needs a comm strong enough to reach Coruscant, without alerting the Kaminoans or the Prime. I know you have access.” Kote’s eyes narrowed slightly. He hated to do this to someone he considered a mentor but something big was happening soon- he could feel it in his bones. Like the pounding of war drums he’d never heard before. _‘I know you have contact with Spar.’_ He signed quickly. 17’s shocked anger was all the proof he needed.

Spar, Alpha-02, had an odd genetic quirk that had him reliving the Prime’s memories night after night as he slept until they started manifesting as hallucinations during the day. Sergeant Gilamar had somehow convinced the Prime to help him get Spar off of Kamino. There were very few people who knew about it but one of Kote’s medics had often been in the medical bay where Gilamar worked. He’d overheard enough that Kote could piece it together on his own. The Prime wouldn’t let one of his precious Alphas get decommissioned for something that wildly out of everyone’s control so he knew the other clone was alive, somewhere out there.

There was a reason Kote was the leader of the Commanders.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, vod’ika.” Alpha snapped, getting to his feet and taking a step toward him. Kote stood his ground, there was no way in hell he was going to back down. 17 glared at him a moment longer, testing his resolve, before he motioned for someone to bring his armor. “I’ll get the jetii a comm.” There was a small sigh behind him and Kote knew his Jedi was relieved. _‘Nice prize. You’ll have to fight to keep it.’_ 17 signed at him. This time Kote didn’t even try to hold back the possessive growl that erupted from his throat. 17’s eyes narrowed at the near-challenge but was distracted as his armor was set down beside him. The older clone let out a huff and quickly armored up.

Once he was ready he motioned them to follow and took off at a confident pace. Kote’s Jedi watched 17 with a look of curiosity that made Kote want to scowl. 17 turned to look back at Kote’s Jedi with a faintly amused look on his face. “So, jetii, what do you know of Manda’yaim and the history of the Mando’ade?” His Jedi smiled, relaxing slightly, and began to talk about things that Kote had never heard of before. 17, though, clearly had. The older clone slowed until he was walking next to the copper haired man, clearly intent on his words.

If it weren’t for the fact that his Jedi had stepped closer to Kote, as if sensing 17 was a threat, he would have been ready to throw down with the other leader right then and there. Making his displeasure known almost trumped the possibility of losing. Almost.

“You know a lot about Manda’yaim, but what do you know about Stewjon?” His Jedi faltered, expression a mix of curious and wary, before admitting he knew very little. “How interesting. You’d think the jetiise would have wanted to warn you.” Now he had both Kote and his Jedi’s attention. “Stewjon has a shared history with Manda’yaim.” There is a pause as 17 eyes Kote’s Jedi. “It was once considered an honor by the Taung for their leaders to go to Stewjon and hunt themselves a prize.” Kote isn’t sure what to say to that and the Jedi walking between them tenses, as if waiting for an attack. The stunned look on his face and the way he shifts back toward Kote’s side is all the permission he needs to reach out and gently tug his Jedi away from 17, stepping between them protectively.

 _“You want a smack to the face, brother? Because that can be arranged. Pack it in!”_ Before 17 can respond there is a shout behind them. All three of them tense, ready, before Kote recognized who it is. It’s Ponds, one of the sub-leaders and his batchmate.

“Alor!” The man hurries over and hands him something, looking around warily.

“What’s this?” Ponds hesitates for a moment before squaring his shoulders.

 _‘Tracker. A brother placed it on Prime’s ship. It’s still active.’_ He signed. Kote’s Jedi looked fascinated at all the hand gestures but it was clear he didn’t understand. Taking the device from his brother he held it out to the redhead.

“Sir. There’s a tracker on the Prime’s ship. This should help with your mission, right?” His Jedi gives him a bright smile, eyes determined as he takes the device from Kote’s hand. The tingles start up again and he wants to shake himself like a hound shedding water to rid himself of the feeling. At the same time he wants nothing more than to run his fingers along his Jedi’s wrist, up his arm, and down his chest. Stitch got a chance to touch that pale flesh and Kote is still annoyed by that fact; even if it had only been for perfectly logical medical reasons.

“That’s very helpful, thank you.” He still isn’t sure why this man was affecting him so much. But Kote had decided that the Jedi belonged to him and no one else. If 17 didn’t back off he would challenge him, consequences be damned. “Are we close to our destination?” 17 nods and motions them onward.

Ponds falls in on Kote’s left and is watching the redhead with clear fascination. He can’t help but feel vindicated when 17 glances over with a small frown. “I said I’d take you and the jetii, not one of your verd.” Kote glares at him but signs at Ponds for him to report to Rex. Ponds give a quick salute and vanishes down the next hall they pass by.

“You speak Mando’a but use a unique set of hand signs?” His Jedi asks, curiosity clear on his face as he strokes his beard contemplatively.

“We can use Mando hand signs as well but we prefer our own.” 17 answers. His Jedi just nods as his eyes become slightly distant and he quiets again, as if deep in thought. Kote turns to 17 and catches his attention.

 _‘What do you know?’_ He demands of the older clone, using less than polite gestures. 17 gives him a smug look and Kote wants to follow through on his threat to punch him in the face.

 _‘Challenge me. Win and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.’_ Kote grinds his teeth. He knows what will happen if he loses, that it would mean he was never worthy of his position to begin with. While if he wins he gains 17 as a subordinate, along with the entirety of the Alpha class. But the possibility of losing his Jedi was a strong deterrent. _‘You’re no coward, challenge me.’_ Those words shouldn’t be half as effective as they are. 17 has never been the most subtle clone.

 _‘When there are witnesses. We’ll do this properly or not at all.’_ Alpha’s face splits into a feral grin and Kote returns it with one of his own. Alpha may think he knows what fighting Kote will be like, since he was someone who helped train him, but he hasn’t seen Kote get serious yet. A man fights harder when he has something to lose. Kote didn’t fight through the entire Commander Class to lose everything now.

“In here, jetii.” Heading over to the room they needed Alpha quickly sliced the lock and they all hurried inside. He watched the older clone set up the equipment and glanced at his Jedi. The man’s eyes had turned stormy gray once more and it was absolutely fascinating to look at. “You’re up, jetii.”

A moment later the call connects. It was time to see what they were dealing with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: The Hierarchy is entirely inborn. By the time the clones hit the physical/biological age of 6 they begin to fall into it instinctively. The Commanders have the highest concentration of born leaders, thanks to what the Kaminoans did during their genetic tinkering. Over time they challenged each other and after many secret one on one duels Kote finally emerged at the top. As long as no one defeats him during a challenge then he gets to remain top dog.
> 
> It is very similar to a certain Mandalorian tradition.
> 
> Al'alor- Bastardized Mando'a for Alpha Leader.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-wan's POV for the first 2 chapters.

When Obi-wan first appeared on Kamino he was absolutely gob smacked to hear he had been ‘expected.’ After a fruitless effort trying to get information out of the Prime Minister he was finally offered a tour to look in on the ‘products.’ What he found made him want to put his face in his hands and curse in every language he knew. How had no one noticed this? There had to be a large amount of supplies coming to the planet at frequent intervals. The logistics alone should have been a nightmare! There was no way they could support this amount of people with what they had on planet. Human diets were just too different compared to the amphibious Kaminoans.

Then he met Jango Fett and everything had felt… strange. The man prowled like a cornered nexu, his warm brown eyes sharp with a confusing mixture of hatred and interest. Obi-wan wasn’t new to someone looking at him and reacting with lust. Something about his appearance had always attracted attention, both the good and the bad kind. But there was almost a buzzing around the bounty hunter, like the air was filled with static between them.

Then the man had tried to flee and the fight was on.

In the end he was unable to stop the bounty hunter from leaving but at least Obi-wan was alive and relatively unhurt. He should have known not to tangle with the Mand’alor, former or no. He was known as the Jedi Killer for a reason.

Getting back into Tipoca city had taken a lot of energy and the water of the ocean below had been very cold. His ankle throbbed and coughing up water had made his side flare in agony.

Then he met Kote.

The moment the man opened his mouth to speak Obi-wan tensed, afraid that the bounty hunter had come back to try and finish him off. But no, it was one of the man’s clones. He offered to take him to medical and Obi-wan quickly declined. But then… it was so clear the offer was being made in earnest concern for his wellbeing and Obi-wan folded. It wouldn’t hurt to at least move somewhere else.

The entire trip, to wherever it was they were going, Obi-wan could feel a low hum of something around him. It seemed to come from every single clone they passed and even Kote himself. The more men they walked by the more he could feel the sincere worry building. By the force they were so damned earnest! He could feel it against his tired mind every time one of them noticed him and brightened with excitement then dimmed again in concern. It was almost too much.

Then he was being seated and was able to get off of his throbbing ankle for a time.

If only Kote hadn’t hollered for a medic everything would have been fine. Suddenly he was being fussed over and ordered to remove his tunics. With the intense feeling of focus centered on him it was quite embarrassing. But clearly the medic, and the men around him, would not take no for an answer.

Of course it was after he’d taken off his tunics that one of the training sergeants appeared and tried to attack him. Thankfully the man was quickly tackled by a group of troopers and held down. It was alarming how quick they were to defend him but considering who they had tackled to the ground Obi-wan had few objections.

Kyr’tsad, and the man recognized him as one of the jedi who had helped keep Satine alive. Was there no end to his poor luck?

It took effort to put the man to sleep, he had to use a lot more will than he was strictly comfortable with, but he couldn’t have one of the Kyr’tsad recognize him and rile up any of their allies. He was also worried what would happen to the clones if they were discovered going against their trainers like this to protect him.

Once the man was taken away, with the clones reassurance that the Kyr’tsad member would be locked up, he felt the clones relax in the force.

He could feel their attention on him, like rough fingers trailing over his skin, and he felt his face heating up at the attention. Obi-wan was no blushing virgin, he knew people found him attractive because of his species, but this somehow felt a bit more pointed than that. It went beyond simple lust, which was concerning and confusing both.

Thankfully the medic was quite insistent that he be seen to and after the scare that they had been given he felt returning their reassurance was in order. So he sat down and let the man fuss over him until he could feel the clones calming further, assured that he was in good hands and wouldn’t be keeling over any time soon.

“Kote!” Someone called out, a voice both similar and dissimilar to millions of others. Looking toward the one who spoke reflexively he spied clone who was hurrying toward them. If it weren’t for his striking blonde hair he would have blended in with the others, although with his energetic spirit in the force Obi-wan would be hard pressed to overlook him. The blonde stopped next to Kote and Obi-wan could easily see a strong bond of friendship there.

There was a mild flash of something from Kote that made the hair on the back of Obi-wan’s neck stand on edge. Or maybe it was the cold. He had been soaked earlier and after being forced to take off his tunics for the medical exam he was shivering.

Not wanting to intrude, but knowing he had to catch their attention, he cleared his throat lightly. “Oh, hello there.” He called out toward the newcomer, as if he had only just noticed his presence.

“Sir.” The blonde said, standing ramrod straight and at attention. Obi-wan had to hold back a whole body twitch at the wrongness of the situation. Jedi were not Generals. ‘But you were,’ his traitorous mind supplied.

“Who might you be?” The blonde turned to look at Kote, as if seeking guidance or permission. The two of them seemed quite close, which eased a few of his misgivings about the clones being raised in isolation and lacking a proper community.

“CT-75-” Waving his hand in the air to stop him from continuing Obi-wan had to hide a flinch when the blonde snapped his mouth shut, watching him with fear. He hid another wince and hurried to reassure the man he wasn’t in trouble.

“Oh, no, I… if you happen to have a name you prefer? I would be more than happy to use it.” He watched the man think over his words for a moment before making a decision, his presence colored with nerves and resignation both before he finally spoke.

“Rex.” Obi-wan brightened, feeling relieved that someone other than Kote had a name. Hearing all these strings of numbers was reminding him of his short stint in the mines… it caused an uncomfortable cramping in his stomach and made him want to be sick.

“Oh thank the force! Please, if you all have names I would be honored to use them. None of this numbers business.” He faltered slightly, looking around. “Unless, of course, you prefer your numbers, in which case I will honor your decision and do my best to remember.” He didn’t want to alienate them, after all. There were bound to be a few of them who just didn’t care enough to change their names or even found comfort in their given designations.

“Thank you, Sir.” Looking up at Kote in confusion he pursed his lips.

“For what, Kote?” There was a flash of awe, respect, and something deeper he couldn’t quite catch before the man was speaking again.

“For using our names.” It was a simple statement but he knew it meant much more. The fact that no one had had cared enough about them to do so made him feel a deep seated rage he thought he’d buried long ago.

“It’s what you all should have had from the beginning. You are all sentient beings with your own thoughts, feelings, and preferences. Each and every one of you shines differently in the force. You may look alike on the surface, Kote, but you are all unique.” You could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed. Then everything happened at once. He felt the burning passion and determination of the men around him flare briefly, reaching out to him as if to tie themselves to his presence in the force.

“Sir.” Kote said, coming to a stop in front of where he was sitting. “We are at your command.” There was the feeling of an oath in those words, as if Kote would do everything in his power to see that Ob-wan was put in charge of his men.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

* * *

The meeting with the Alphas started off normal enough. Then it took a turn for the unusual as another clone came out of the fresher and stalked toward them, much like Jango had done to him earlier. There was an intensity in his eyes that mirrored the Mand’alor’s as his attention turned from Kote to Obi-wan. Finally the man sat down on a bench across from them and he felt a surge of anger from Kote for a moment before it was quickly smothered. Around them the other Alphas watched the two of them, wary yet also anticipating… something.

“Kote, me’vaar?” The man asked. Obi-wan shouldn’t have been surprised, Kote had understood and spoken Mando’a after all.

“He understands Mando’a so you might as well speak Basic.” The intensity of the clone’s gaze only became sharper as he turned toward Obi-wan fully and was very obvious about looking him up and down. The Alpha’s eyes trailed up to his hair and seemed to stop there for a moment before he finally returned to looking at Kote.

“Does he, now?” Came the man’s low, husky, voice. Obi-wan looked between the Alpha and Kote, both concerned and a little confused. Why was it so interesting that he knew Mando’a? There were other scholars at the temple who could speak and read Mando’a. After all they were almost as ancient an enemy of the Jedi as the Sith were. Knowing their language and studying their old texts wasn’t particularly new for the jedi. Although they did tend to be the kind of jedi who stayed in the temple and never left their entire lives. So perhaps that wasn’t common knowledge?

After the two clones just stared at each other for a time Obi-wan finally spoke, if only to ease some of the tension. “I do. I spent a year on Manda’yaim and although I am not wholly fluent I am quite skilled in the language.” It was the quickest and easiest explanation.

The Alpha grinned and he could feel Kote become irritable in response. “So, why is a jetii, a Stewjoni jetii, coming to the Alpha class?” Before Obi-wan could respond he felt a wave of strong emotion from Kote before the man was stepping between he and the Alpha. Worried that Kote had noticed some danger he had not Obi-wan took a step back and prepared himself, letting Kote take the lead.

“Al’alor,” that was not a form of address he had heard before and he wondered if it was not something the clones had made for themselves. “The Jedi fought the Prime before he fled Kamino. Knight Kenobi needs a comm strong enough to reach Coruscant, without alerting the Kaminoans or the Prime. I know you have access.” He could feel the tenseness in the air before there was a sharp bite of shocked anger from the Alpha clone. Something about what Kote had said, or maybe done, had angered the older clone.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, vod’ika.” The Alpha snapped and stood up, taking a menacing step toward Kote. But the man standing in front of him was steadfast and blazed with determination. “I’ll get the jetii a comm.” Obi-wan felt the two of them relax and let out a sigh of relief that this hadn’t blown up in their faces. He had almost expected the two men to come to blows.

After the man donned his armor they were led down long halls that were just as white and sterile as the rest of the city. He watched the Alpha as he took the lead, wondering if he was missing something. It was clear that Kote looked up to this older clone yet at the same time was quite open about challenging him in small ways. He wondered if it was a hierarchy thing or if Kote thought of him as an elder brother. 17 had called Kote vod’ika, little brother, after all.

As Alpha slowed down to walk next to him he instinctively shifted closer to Kote, away from the man who reminded him a little too much of the Jedi Killer Jango Fett. Obi-wan smiled politely, relaxing when all that was asked of him was if he knew the history of the Mandalorians.

“I know quite a lot, actually. We have extensive archives that are updated frequently.” Talking about what he knew of their history was a good distraction for how intensely 17 was watching him and how unamused Kote felt in the force. It was clear there was tension in the air but for what reason he didn’t understand.

“You know a lot about Manda’yaim, but what do you know about Stewjon?” Obi-wan faltered slightly at the sudden shift in topic. From the look of him 17 knew more than he was letting on and it made Obi-wan wary, even as his curiosity was piqued. Mandalore had been the enemy of the jedi for millennia and the archives had an entire section dedicated to it. Yet there was practically nothing about Stewjon. Even the jedi who had been allowed to visit Stewjon to get in touch with their heritage refused to update the archives with what knowledge they gathered. When asked they always stated it was something they could not discuss due to a force enforced compulsion ritual. Yet none of them ever seemed bothered by this mysterious compulsion and every time they were asked if they had agreed to it the force rang with truth when they said yes. They had chosen to do the ritual of their own free will, in order to preserve the secrets of a people who wanted to be left well alone.

“I’m afraid that I know very little. My trip to Stewjon to meet my birth people was postponed due to extenuating circumstances.” The Stewjonian government refused to let him bring his Padawan along. Anyone who was not born Stewjoni was barred from setting foot on the planet. Learning anything about his people, about himself, was very hard to resist and this was the first time he’d heard anyone offering information about them so freely.

“How interesting. You’d think the jetiise would have wanted to warn you.” Alarm bells rang and Obi-wan felt a similar rise in wariness from Kote. “Stewjon has a shared history with Manda’yaim.” Obi-wan frowned. No one had ever said anything about that and there were no records in the archives. At least, none that could be accessed by a Knight. “It was once considered an honor by the Taung for their leaders to go to Stewjon and hunt themselves a prize.” The way the man’s presence curled around the word ‘prize’ made everything inside him tense with panic. Without thought he shifted closer to Kote, who had been nothing but a protective presence for him since he arrived. A gloved hand gently gripped his elbow and tugged him backward as the man stepped between him and 17.

 _“You want a smack to the face, brother? Because that can be arranged. Pack it in!”_ There is fierce, protective, anger in Kote’s voice and Obi-wan feels himself losing some of his panic. He has back-up, he’s not alone.

“Alor!” A sudden shout had the three of them readying for a fight before the two clones recognized the third coming toward them. The moment he is close enough he hands something to Kote, looking around as if in search of trouble.

“What’s this?” Kote asks. The other clone stands straighter, as if he is making a report to a superior officer. A moment later his hands begin to dance and Obi-wan watches him in fascination. It is no sign language he has ever seen yet it has elements from both Mandalorian sign language and the military hand signs he had learned while on Mandalore.

Kote takes the item and holds it out to Obi-wan suddenly. “Sir. There’s a tracker on the Prime’s ship. This should help with your mission, right?” Obi-wan can’t help but smile in relief. This entire mission was a complete disaster, he was due for some good luck.

“That’s very helpful, thank you.” Taking the comm he feels a slight tingle up his arm and almost gasps in confusion before he’s able to push the feeling down and away. “Are we close to our destination?” The faster he can contact the Council the faster he can have some back-up and warn them about Fett. Force, he hoped his padawan was okay.

“I said I’d take you and the jetii, not one of your verd.” He almost startled when 17 finally spoke, the frowned. Why did it matter if this new man came with them? Kote seems to understand whatever it was 17 was getting at as he used the same hand signs the new clone had used when he came up to them. Again Obi-wan was fascinated to learn he couldn’t understand them at all. The man gave a quick salute and at the next junction he vanished down another hall.

“You speak Mando’a but use a unique set of hand signs?” He finally asks when the silence has gone on too long.

“We can use Mando hand signs as well but we prefer our own.” 17 answers simply enough. Obi-wan nods and goes over each of the movements in his mind, trying to pick out gestures that he knows and guessing what they might mean. 

“In here, jetii.” He stops and turns toward the door indicated, sending out his senses to ensure no one else was close enough to see them slip inside. Watching 17 as he efficiently set up the equipment he ran a hand through his hair and wondered just how he was going to explain this all to the council.

“You’re up, jetii.” 17 called to him. Nodding he stepped up to the holo communicator and waited for the call to connect.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit is about to go down on Kamino.

The call connected and his Jedi smiled at the darker skinned human male, clearly recognizing him. Kote couldn’t help but to stand a little straighter as he recognized the man’s robes. “Master Windu, thank the force I was able to reach you.” The other Jedi, Windu apparently, frowned.

“Knight Kenobi, it’s good to hear from you. What happened to your personal comm?” The redhead winced, even as a sheepish smile crossed his face.

“Ah, the bounty hunter I was chasing? I discovered his identity the hard way.” He didn’t exactly fidget but Kote watched him slip his hands into his sleeves, his weight shifting slightly. “Jango Fett, former Mand’alor of the True Mandalorians and infamous Jedi Killer.” Kote felt his blood run cold. Jedi killer? He turned to Alpha who looked at him seriously before giving a small nod. “A man we’ve been led to believe had died over twenty years ago.” There is a quiet low rumble from the other Jedi.

“Why is it always you walking into these dangerous messes?” The redhead had the audacity to laugh.

“I always get out of them again, eventually. No worse for wear.” He feels a sudden urge to grab the man and hide him away.

“Obi-wan, that’s a damned lie and you know it. Tell me truthfully, how injured are you?” The redhead’s body language turned defensive and he smiled brightly, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Oh, nothing particularly bad.” It was obvious the other Jedi didn’t believe him.

With a small growl Kote raised his voice, loud enough to be heard over the comm. “My medic said he has three cracked ribs, multiple contusions, and a twisted ankle. We’ve treated him for the worst of his injuries and he should recover swiftly.” Considering he was raised to be able to yell across battlefields… he was certain they’d heard him. When he was finished speaking he found Alpha staring at him, something discerning in his eyes, as the redheaded Jedi turned to him with a look that almost bordered on betrayal.

“Who was that?” His Jedi sagged slightly, looking tired.

“For the last ten years or so Jango Fett has been supplying the Kaminoans with his dna. The Kaminoans claim they were commissioned by the Jedi on behalf of the Republic to build us an army of cloned soldiers.” He lets out a breath and continues. “That was… CC-2224, he holds the rank of Commander.” Kote felt something deep in his gut pinch when his Jedi referred to him by designation. But as he looked into Obi-wan’s eyes he realized that his Jedi didn’t know if Kote wanted his name given to others. He was protecting what little trust he had built between them by withholding Kote’s name from the other Jedi.

The sourness in his abdomen turned to warmth and he had to bite the inside of his cheek in order to not say anything foolish. He gave his Jedi an appreciative nod and the man relaxed, smiling at him in relief. Alpha snorted next to him and he had to stop himself from smacking his ori’vod in the face like he’d threatened earlier. The man was a great combat teacher, and Kote respected the hell out of his skills, but he was also an absolute bastard.

“Why would someone impersonate a Jedi and commission these Kaminoans? And for that matter, why an army of clones? None of this is adding up… did they say who it was that commissioned them?” His Jedi nodded, looking disturbed.

“Master Sifo-dyas. But it is my understanding that he died ten years ago.” Kote felt something cold slither down his spine. How did a dead man pay the Kaminoans to create them?

“Master Sifo-Dyas… he always had strong visions.” The man shook his head. “We’ll look into it on our end. What happened to your ship?” His Jedi grimaced.

“It was blown up, by Fett, when he escaped. I, uh, found myself a little indisposed for a time after that so unfortunately he was able to get off planet.” Jedi Master Windu closed his eyes and took a slow, deep, breath. If Kote had to guess the man was asking the force for patience. “Oh, but good news. The clones planted a tracker on his ship and have given me the locator. I’ll send you the data I have and any information I can gather from the Kaminoans.” The other Jedi nodded.

“I want you to stay where you are and keep an eye on things.” He motioned toward someone out of range and a low mumbling could be heard. “We’re sending you two Masters for back-up. Padawan Skywalker can remain where he is.” Kote’s Jedi looked relieved and that made him frown slightly. Having back-up in the form of more Jedi would be very beneficial, especially if they were anything like his Jedi. But the idea that others would come and possibly keep Obi-wan away from him… that didn’t sit well with Kote.

“Of course, Master Windu. And, uh, who was it you were thinking of sending?” There is a little bit of hesitation in his Jedi’s voice and Kote turns his attention to the comm, curious but also apprehensive.

“Master Ti and Master Koon. They can be there within the week.” A bright smile crosses his face and Kote sucks in a small breath. It is a thing of beauty, unreserved and unguarded.

He wants Obi-wan to smile at him like that.

“Stay safe, Obi-wan. Keep an eye out for Master Ti and Koon. Make sure the Kaminoans don’t suspect you are anything other than a customer.” A dark look passed over his face, dulling his eyes to that stormy gray.

“I know, Mace. No matter what this… reminds me of, I will do my duty. May the force be with you.” Alpha rolled his eyes and Kote pointedly ignored him.

“And with you.” With that the call cut out.

“Ah, 17, was it? Could you help me send this data packet without any trace? We’ll need to erase all records.” Knocking his shoulder against Kote’s, 17 strode over to the computers and quickly did as he was asked. None of them wanted the attention of the Kaminoans after all.

They left the room locked behind them, his Jedi looking much more self assured now that he had marching orders. 17 turns to run his eyes over Obi-wan again and Kote bristles. Turning his attention back to Kote 17’s eyes harden.

“I’ve done my part, vod’ika, you better hold up your end.” Obi-wan looks between them, confused, as Kote grits his teeth.

“Just name a time and place.” Alpha smirks and lifts his wrist comm.

“Yes, Sir?” Kote recognizes the vod’s voice, it’s Fordo.

 _“Gather a couple of witnesses from each clan.”_ There is a moment of silence before Fordo lets out a small chuckle.

 _“Affirmative, Sir. Training room Senth-37 will be free in an hour.”_ Looking up from the call Alpha gives him a feral grin.

 _“You heard him. One hour, vod’ika.”_ Kote nods as the older clone turns away. _“Oh, and bring the gift with you.”_ His Jedi looks at him with clear confusion as 17 disappears down a hall.

“Is this my doing? You didn’t tell me you would have to pay for his help.” Kote let out a long sigh.

“It’s fine, Sir. I expected this to happen… although maybe not so soon.” He muttered at the end.

“What is this gift he spoke of?” When he didn’t answer the redhead looked up at him with a frown. “Kote? What is the gift?”

“It was just a bad joke. This is a personal challenge between him and me, an inevitable confrontation.” He looked down at his Jedi. “If you’re concerned you could always come along? We have nothing to hide from you, Sir.” There was a slight hesitance for a moment before the man nodded, face solemn. His Jedi knew there was something going on but thankfully wasn’t questioning it, for now.

* * *

As they enter the training room Kote suddenly realizes he doesn’t want Obi-wan to see this. Milling about the room are hundreds of vode. At least one brother from each battalion, some of which were commanders. A few higher ups from the medical corps, engineering corps, and the fighter pilots. Some of the best slicers, and even three full squads of commandos. Omicron, Sigma, and Theta- all of which were considered tied for the top spot among the commandos. He even spied Ordo and Mereel.

Why were the Nulls here? Just what the hell was 17 getting him into?

17 stepped into the middle of the training room and everyone quieted down, gathering closer together in a large circle around the Alpha clone. Obi-wan made a concerned sound from next to him but he ignored it. 17 was trying to stare him down and he was not about to look away first.

Stalking toward the older clone, who was already down to his blacks, Kote began to strip just outside the circle. Obi-wan quick to follow behind him, looking between them with concern. “Kote, this looks like a Battle Circle.” The vode nearby brightened with interest, curious about this Jedi who knew about their ways.

“That’s because it is.” He had no time to fully explain as 17 finally broke eye contact in order to look around at the gathered vode.

 _“Who comes to challenge me?”_ 17 barked in Mando’a. Kote stepped forward once the last piece of his armor hit the ground.

 _“I do.”_ He stepped into the circle, standing tall and unafraid. _“Kote, of the Commanders. I challenge you for the right of Leadership.”_ All around him he could hear the excited chatter.

 _“Who will be the judge?”_ Mereel stepped forward and gave them an amused smile.

 _“I will judge this contest.”_ Kote nodded, accepting him as an impartial judge.

 _“As the one being challenged I have the right to choose the contest.”_ Alpha looked around, letting the anticipation build. _“A duel. All combat styles allowed, no weapons, no armor. Until one of us either yields or falls unconscious.”_ Kote nodded, accepting that too.

 _“What are the stakes?”_ Mereel asked loudly, cutting off the chatter from the rest of the vode.

 _“If I fail, I forfeit my right to lead the others. If Kote fails he forfeits his right to lead the Commanders, and he loses his gift.”_ There were a few confused mutterings before a couple of vode ended up looking at his Jedi. They nudged their neighbors and began signing at each other across the circle. Soon everyone was taking furtive glances at his Jedi, understanding beginning to dawn on them.

17’s grin just grew more smug and Kote had to breathe deeply to keep himself calm. He knew that his ori’vod was doing it on purpose, to get under his skin. He was one of the few that knew Kote actually had a temper beneath his calm and competent exterior.

 _“It’s settled then. A single duel with the right to lead on the line. 17, Kote, are you ready?”_ Kote nodded just as 17 did. Mereel stepped back, eyes alight with excitement, as he started to knock his fist against his chest plate. It took mere seconds for the others to catch on and soon the room was filled with a steady beating, like the sound of drums.

He and the Alpha began to circle one another as a low chant was taken up by the vode. The tension built. Then 17 charged.

There was cheering from the vode, shouts of Oya, as the two of them exchanged a flurry of blows. The sounds of each connected punch or kick completely drowned out by the chanting as it began to get louder.

Kote grunted when 17’s elbow rammed into his gut, he could taste blood and he knew his lip was already split open. Jumping away from his opponent he spat onto the floor and wiped at his face, eyes flashing dangerously.

17 gave him a superior looking smirk, the one he’d always given before throwing Kote into the hardest part of training. But Kote wasn’t a cadet anymore.

Behind 17 he spied his Jedi, watching with wide blue eyes but not trying to interfere. The man noticed his attention and gave him an encouraging nod, lips thinning in concern. Kote shifted his attention back to 17.

It was time to finish this.

With a snarl Kote threw himself at 17, charging into him and throwing all of his weight behind it. 17 grabbed him around the middle and tried to throw him off but Kote had a few tricks of his own. He let 17 lift him, went with the motion, then shifted all of his weight onto the older clone suddenly- throwing off his balance. Taking his legs out from beneath him Kote slammed 17’s head into the floor, adding a kick to his jaw for good measure.

17 snarled as he fell but the moment the kick connected his eyes became unfocused and his body slumped. Jumping to his feet, his chest rising and falling rapidly, he stared down at the Alpha clone, fists raised and ready to continue the fight.

17 tried to rise. Once, twice, then lay still.

Mereel stepped into the ring and the chant cut off immediately, the vode silently waiting for the verdict.

The feeling of anticipation and excitement swelled, filling the entire room, as Mereel knelt next to 17 and spoke with him in a hushed murmur.

Mereel helped 17 to his feet, one arm around his ribs to keep him stable.

 _“I submit.”_ He coughed, clearing his throat. _“I forfeit my right to lead the Alphas.”_ Kote’s shoulders relaxed and he stood taller. It was over, he’d won! _“I forfeit my right to lead the Commandos.”_ There was a low murmuring amongst the vode now. _“And I forfeit my right to lead the Nulls.”_ Confused shouts rang out as the troopers and commanders denied the statement.

Ordo stepped forward. _“17 won the right to lead my brothers and I.”_ He said with no preamble.

 _“We challenged 17 for the right to lead. We lost.”_ Orar of Omicron stated from outside the circle.

Kote’s eyes widened as 17 began to laugh

 _“Oya Manda!”_ The man raised his voice, silencing the vode. _“Brothers, rejoice! For today Kote has done what no one has in millennia! He fought for you, for all the vode, and now stands as the sole champion.”_ While 17 spoke it was as if the air became charged with his words. A low hum, a vibration, skittered across his skin and made him shiver. Something was about to happen. _“Kneel and submit. For today we crown a true Mand’alor!”_

The moment the words left 17s mouth electricity flooded his body. It was like someone had stabbed him in the chest with a live wire. He gasped, stumbled, but didn’t fall as power coursed through his veins and set them aflame. Spots danced across his vision and he grit his teeth against the pain. One moment there and gone the next.

When he was finally able to open his eyes it was to the sight of the vode kneeling on the ground, heads bowed. His eyes immediately went to 17, so many questions on the tip of his tongue. Mereel let 17 go and his ori’vod stepped closer. _“I always knew it was going to be you. From the moment this scrawny cadet stepped forward to correct me when I singled out the little blonde kid. When the cadet kept choosing to stand between the trainers and his brothers, even if it meant taking every punishment himself. When that same cadet ended up the best in all his classes because he just wouldn’t quit. That’s when I knew- it was always meant to be you.”_ Kote felt a mix of emotions, emotions he had no idea what to do with.

On the one hand 17 had cornered him, put him in a position he had never expected or wanted. On the other hand everything felt so… right. It was like he was settled in his skin for the first time in his life. He felt powerful and in control.

 _“You’re an absolute bastard, you know that?”_ 17 laughed, sounding pretty relaxed for someone who’d just taken a beating. _“You didn’t throw the fight did you?”_ He didn’t want to believe 17 would do that, dishonor their way of life, but he had to be sure.

 _“No, Alor. It wouldn’t have worked if I gave you victory. You had to grasp it for yourself. Thankfully there was something nearby I could use to motivate you.”_ 17’s head turned and Kote frowned, following his gaze. His eyes lit upon Obi-wan, his Jedi, and his breath hitched.

The man was sitting on his knees, eyes glazed and staring off into the distance. But all around him there was almost this aura of peace, like a cloak wrapped safely around him. 17 snickered. _“It’s an old tradition for the Mand’alor to go to Stewjoni’yaim and hunt themselves a prize.”_ Kote frowned, but his eyes refused to budge from the redhead. _“Stewjoni’ad have been the mates of the Mand’alor since the two species met. Kote, he’s your riduur. Go and claim him.”_ The words sent a shiver of want through him.

 _“It should be his choice as well.”_ 17 huffed.

 _“It’s the will of Manda. Why else would they send the perfect mate for the future Mand’alor to this hellhole otherwise?”_ Kote wasn’t so sure about that but something was drawing him to Obi-wan, calling like a siren from the sea.

Before he knew it he was standing over Obi-wan, looking down at his Jedi. The man didn’t move, didn’t register the fact that he was even there. Kote knelt on one knee and reached for the man’s hand, taking it in his own. “S-” A low growl left him as his throat refused to work. Something new inside him rebelled at the idea of calling anyone else Sir, of acknowledging someone being above himself. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Obi-wan? Are you alright?” Slowly the blue eyes cleared and they began to focus on him.

 _“Yes, Alor?”_ The man asked quietly, almost as if in a daze. Kote can’t help the rumble of approval that pulls from him.

Unable to stop himself Kote reaches out to brush a thumb along the skin beneath his eye, laying his palm against his face and feeling the hair of his beard. Obi-wan leans into his touch and he feels his heart beating faster in his chest. Then, suddenly, the man’s eyes widen and he jerks back, as if burned. Kote can feel a sense of fear and confusion overtaking the peaceful aura he’d had a moment ago and makes a low sound of distress.

Why was Obi-wan so afraid?

The sound of an explosion going off somewhere in Tipoca city has Kote immediately on his feet, hauling Obi-wan up with him. Two more explosions go off and Kote falls into that place between calm and rage he is so familiar with. “What the hell is going on?” He barked over the crowd of vode.

Ordo steps up next to him, watching him warily.

“A revolution.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still have No idea where this is going. I'm just letting the muse do her thing.


	5. Chapter 5

Looking over the nav computer one last time he let out a relieved sigh and settled more firmly in the pilot seat. Running a hand through his short hair he scowled as his mind wandered back to the fight with the jetii. A flash of intelligent blue eyes and coppery locks in his mind eye made him let out a shaky breath. From the moment he’d set foot in his apartment that cycle Jango had felt his immediate attraction to the strange jetii. Consciously he knew that the man was his enemy but inside his chest he had felt the warmth of Manda responding to one of its children. Shabla Stewjoni. The jetiise had sent a Stewjoni’ad after him, of all the brainless and incompetent things they could do!

It had taken all of Jango’s control not to bark commands at him, force him to submit to his Mand’alor like a proper Stewjoni’ade. It was clear the man had been confused and unsettled by his sudden and intense interest and he knew that the jetiise hadn’t told him anything about his people. Couldn’t tell him anything. The heart of Manda was strong on Stewjon and if Manda did not want their secrets spread to the wider galaxy then by the Ka’ra they would not be.

A sudden burning in his chest made him grunt, even as Boba gasped aloud in surprise. A flood of fire entered his veins and it felt as if something was being ripped from him. He cursed aloud, not able to hold himself back even with Boba sitting next to him. When the sensation finally receded Jango felt as if the well of power within him had dwindled down to a mere puddle.

The implications hit him all at once. He didn’t even feel the impact of his fist against the console until his son called out to him in concern. “Buir!” Of course Boba wouldn’t know what happened. He’d tried to keep that away from his son as much as possible. There was only one group he had ever told all of the old legends to, who had been ‘old’ enough to know.

The Alphas.

The first time he’d stepped into the demagolka scientist’s office he had felt it. The Nulls gave off the same kind of spark he hadn’t felt since the Haat’ade had been massacred on Galidraan. Ordo, as Kal had come to name him, was sharp and oppressive against his mind. While the boy who would soon be named Mereel was a steadfast pillar of support. Jango had barely been able to look at them. They were so young but already strong enough to make his own instincts bristle with the need to put them in their place. It was at that moment he realized being the Mand’alor was not something he could so easily discard or ignore.

It had been even worse when he met the Alpha boys the first time. If he hadn’t been protected by the Manda with his title of Mand’alor he was certain that 17, 77, and 02 would have been more than happy to fight him. Regardless of how small they were at the time. It became an uphill battle to get them to comply until the first time he snapped and used his Manda blessed authority. They had not been cowed, they did not cower, but they understood on an instinctual level that Jango was their leader and quickly fell in line.

He couldn’t remember when the questions started but he hadn’t discouraged them. They were still children, fiercely curious, and Jango wanted to encourage problem solving and out of the box thinking in the Alphas. During one of their lessons he brought up a bit of history about Mandalore and the boys had stared at him with rapt attention. From there they somehow wheedled him into telling them old stories and eventually it became a way to keep them compliant. They would act up and he would bribe the boys with more stories if they surpassed their current scores.

Each time he did the boys all flew right past their previous scores and he began to realize that they were all holding back. They craved the stories of a home they would never know more than they feared being decommissioned. With that revelation Jango finally caved. Now each class had time set aside for more stories, knowledge that filled their heads and colored their perception of the way things _should_ be.

It was 17 who had asked about past Mand’alore, their rise to power, what challenges they had faced, and how they lost their power.

Jango had been played.

It was only three months ago that 17 had asked him for a personal sparring session to help come up with more tricks to teach the Commanders. It was the first time he’d seen Alpha looking so smug as he jokingly called it a duel. Jango thought he’d been joking. Now he knew the truth.

“Buir, what was that?” Jango swallowed down the curses that wanted to spew from his mouth. It was his own damn fault he’d lost and his own damn lessons that had allowed this to happen. He refused to take it out on his son.

“It was the Manda.” He said through gritted teeth. “What you felt? It was the rising of a new Mand’alor.” Boba’s eyes went wide.

“But… isn’t that your title?” Jango’s shoulders fell, failure and exhaustion in every line of his body.

“Not anymore.” Jango hated the idea that someone else, a clone no less, had taken his place as Mand’alor. But the very fact that it had happened forced Jango to face his own actions. He had ignored the truth about the clones being soulless copies, even though he had felt Manda singing in their veins. Ignored that some of them had the potential to lead their people, gifted by Manda themselves. Now he had irrefutable proof that they were Mando’ade.

If the Mand’alor called him, he would answer. He was still Mando’ad enough for that at least. Whether the new Mand’alor would want him there? Well, that was up for debate. Looking over at the nav computer he quickly reached over and changed the route. Boba looked at him in confusion.

“Where are we going now, buir?” Jango sat back, staring out at the stars.

“Manda’yaim.” He said. “We’re going home.”

* * *

Sitting in one of the meditation rooms Mace felt the presence of others as they politely waited for him to finish. With a small inner sigh of regret he forced himself to come out of meditation and turn to the small group of knights. Immediately he saw the tenseness in their bodies and the odd sense of excitement/fear that surrounded them.

“Has something happened?” The seven knights looked at each other before the oldest stepped forward to speak for them.

“Yes. We need to speak with the council at once. It’s urgent.” The force rang true with their words and Mace nodded. Looking from one to the other he realized what it was about their appearance that was niggling at the back of his mind. Each of them had some shade of red hair and all of their eyes were anywhere from true blue to almost green in color. They were all Stewjonian.

“I’ll call for an emergency meeting at once.” He said as he got to his feet. Whatever these seven had sensed had him worrying about Obi-wan.

Sitting in his seat in the council room he motioned for the spokesman of the Stewjnonian Jedi to speak. Ker-ald Eniker bowed politely and stepped forward.

“We know that this council does not understand a lot about the people of Stewjon, that they actively keep their culture a secret for their own reasons.” He began. “But,” he hesitated for a moment, “we conferred and decided that the information we have is too important to keep to ourselves.” Mace felt more than saw his fellow councilors tensing. “We cannot tell you much, or how we came to be in possession of this information, but we will do our best.”

“And what information is this?” Master Poof asked gently. Ker-ald’s jaw clenched and he took a deep, steadying, breath.

“The return of a true Mand’alor to the galaxy. May the force be with us all.”

* * *

Striding down the hall at a fast clip, hand still wrapped tightly around Obi-wan’s wrist, he barked orders and inquiries into the wrist comm as Alpha and Ordo followed two steps behind. The idea that the two of them were now expecting him to lead, deferring to his decisions in all matters, made something inside him simultaneously crow with triumph and quiver with stress.

“Why did no one ever inform me that you crazy bastards were planning a hostile takeover? Some advanced warning would have been nice!” He snarled as he finally entered the operations room where Jaing and a couple of the Alpha’s best slicers were hacking into the Kaminoan’s security and shutting everything non-essential down.

“We didn’t know when you’d be ready to take your rightful place as Mand’alor. If we’d tried to bring you in early you would have left everything up to us and tried to fade into the background vod’ika.” 17 says with an amused grin. Kote glares at him before turning to the room at large.

“Status report!” He ordered the nearest vod.

“We’ve taken out the security forces, stopped all outgoing communication, rerouted the emergency power, taken the landing pads, and destroyed all exits to the city.” Stars, they’d really planned the hell out of this. He didn’t even have to do anything! Glancing over at Ordo he spied the sharp look of triumph in his eyes. Out of all the vode the Nulls had the most hatred for the Kaminoans. It made sense that their best minds had already planned for everything.

“Is all of this strictly necessary?” A voice that wasn’t a vod asked gently and Kote was suddenly reminded that he had a very firm hold of Obi-wan’s wrist. 17 and Ordo looked at the redhead with some displeasure and he had to hold in a defensive growl.

“This is a slave revolt. It’s necessary.” 17 replied. Ordo nodded curtly, lips drawn into a thin line.

“Oh, then by all means.” His Jedi said evenly. Kote could still feel the fear pouring off of his Jedi and it was making him agitated. Obi-wan should not be afraid of them. Of him. He wanted to get to the bottom of it. But his duty was to the vode first.

“Are we taking prisoners?” Ordo stepped forward with a datapad and Kote regretfully let go of Obi-wan.

“Do not leave my side.” He growled when the redhead appeared intent on stepping away from his side. The man froze, entire body going stiff. Obi-wan’s fear rose again, making Kote feel a little ill, before something invisible seemed to slide between them. He shuddered in distaste and frowned down at his Jedi in confusion, unsure what the man had done. Obi-wan ducked his head but the thing between them didn’t budge. Kote decided to investigate it later and turned his attention back to the datapad.

“Nala Se.” It took all of his carefully crafted control not to spit the name of the chief geneticist. “To reverse the aging?” He asked without looking up, eyes scanning the list and finding the names of some of the less repugnant Kaminoans, including Lama Su and Taun We.

“Yes, Alor.” Kote nodded and handed the datapad back.

“I want Fox on the interrogation and investigation teams.” That vod had a good eye for details and a dogged determination that had gotten him far in their command training. He was also one of the coldest bastards Kote knew, with a great sabbac face to boot. He’d get the answers they needed.

Ordo nodded and made a note on his datapad.

“…perhaps I could be of some help?” All three of them turned to regard Kote’s Jedi. The man looked between them all, expression serene. But Kote could see the tightness around his eyes and how he was holding himself almost too still.

“How?” 17 demanded. Kote glared at him in reproach and to his surprise his ori’vod actually grimaced slightly, his eyes flicking down to the ground for a moment in apology.

“I can tell when others are lying with the force. I’m also a trained mediator.” The man slipped his hands into his sleeves and Kote recognized it as the the same anxious fidgeting from earlier. “If you allow me to help perhaps we may settle this with less bloodshed.” 17 didn’t look particularly interested, neither did Ordo, but Kote didn’t want more of his vode to suffer. If they could get answers right away they could start planning on how to fix the problem immediately.

“You’ll be with the interrogation team as well. I want this finished quickly so we can focus on shoring up our defenses from any outside retaliation.” 17 and Ordo both nodded, turning to issue orders to the men under their command.

Honestly Kote felt a little useless at the moment. He was not the one who had planned this revolt. What they were expecting of him as their leader he had no idea.

 _‘Trust.’_ Something inside him whispered. _‘Brothers all.’_ Kote heard his Jedi suck in a sudden gasp of breath and looked down at him again. Something like awe crossed the man’s face. It was a nice look, much better than his concerned frowns and false serenity.

“Alor.” He turned to 17, raising a brow. “We have a few problems that could use your input.” He glanced at Obi-wan then away again. “Your Jedi is welcome to contribute.” The redhead seemed to jump slightly and Kote could feel a sense of confusion/offense before that too was hidden behind the invisible barrier.

“After you… Alor.” A feeling of frustration rose inside him but he stubbornly shoved it down. He could address what Obi-wan should call him later. Right now he had a revolution to run.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kote gets to claim his Jedi.
> 
> Anakin loses his master.

It took less than seven hours to capture the entirety of Tipoca city. Being trained their entire lives for war had honed their skills to the point where not even the Kaminoans could predict how vastly outmatched they were. Of course they had always assumed they were vastly superior to their ‘product.’ It was the folly of arrogance. Something the vode used to great advantage.

As things were finally wrapping up 17 convinced him that he should take his Jedi somewhere quiet, somewhere they could both catch a breath. Kote reluctantly agreed and before he knew what had happened found himself and Obi-wan standing in the largest, most opulent, room designed for humanoids in all of Tipoca city. Next to him Obi-wan looked around curiously, a feeling of wariness and exhaustion coming off of him in waves. Placing a hand on his Jedi’s arm to catch his attention he felt the connection they shared inside his mind brighten. It was like basking in the rare rays of warm sunshine that graced Kamino once every eight or so months. 

The man’s flinch and reluctance to look directly at him doused any pleasant feelings the connection gave him. Clearing his throat he motioned toward the large fresher. “We should get cleaned up. Both of us took a couple of bad hits before all this osik started.” The man glanced at the fresher then back to him before quietly complying. Kote couldn’t help the conflicted feelings running through him as the beautiful jetii entered the room and nervously looked around, as if searching for an escape route.

With a sigh he came into the large fresher and wasn’t surprised to find a medkit sitting on the counter, just waiting to be used. When his ori’vod had shoved them toward this suite he’d mentioned they’d have ‘everything you need.’ Because he was an efficient bastard like that. Opening the kit he glanced over at Obi-wan, who was looking at the bruise on his face in the mirror and grimacing. “You should put some bacta on that. There’s painkillers here too.” His Jedi stiffened.

“I’ll be fine, I assure you.” Kote frowned. “Would you like assistance with your own injuries?” The redhead asked suddenly, trying to change the subject.

“My fight with 17 wasn’t to the death, like yours and the Prime’s. Besides, you should get warm. Kamino’s ocean is freezing this time of year.” The man opened his mouth, expression stubborn, and Kote could feel that invisible wall between them grow thicker. “Just take off your robes, Obi-wan.” He snapped, growling in frustration. Honestly, did the man have some sort of aversion to medical treatment? 

Obi-wan’s eyes went wide and there was a feeling of cold seeping into that barrier between them. Kote shivered, frowning at the redhead in concern. “You’re going to get sick.” He tried, speaking gently as he pulled out the supplies they’d need. “Let me help you.” He pushed as much sincere concern as he could at his Jedi and felt the cold slowly receding. The man bit his lower lip and watched him for a long moment before reaching up and slipping out of his robes.

Kote breathed a sigh of relief and went over the man’s injuries, carefully applying bacta to the areas that needed it most. Running his hands gently over the man’s pale skin he couldn’t help but marvel at how beautiful he was. How lucky was he to have this man as his Jedi? Was it the Force he should thank? Or perhaps the Manda? He wasn’t sure which, but he owed them.

The entire time he was touching his Jedi he pushed his feelings toward that invisible barrier. All his concern, awe, and curiosity. He was sure the man also felt his attraction, there wasn’t much he could do to hide it, but if he noticed he didn’t say anything. Slowly the barrier between them began to thin until Kote could feel his Jedi tentatively reaching back. There was a sense of interest, curiosity, and faint wariness but it was clear the man was no longer afraid of him.

“I believe I’ll be alright now. Thank you.” Clearing his throat the man reached for the medical kit with a small smile. “Your turn.” He said, voice light and almost playful. Kote frowned. He didn’t want to stop touching his beautiful Jedi. But his injuries were complaining pretty damned loudly so he gave in with a nod. Stripping out of the top of his blacks he smirked when a faint flush crossed Obi-wan’s cheeks. It was mostly hidden by his beard but with his pale skin it was much easier to catch than on one of the vode.

Kote sucked in a breath when those dexterous hands began trailing over his skin. Delicate fingers gently administered the bacta, easing his pain. The look of concentration and focus on the man’s face was enough to make him twitch with the need to reach out. To pull the redhead closer. Obi-wan must have felt the sudden urge as he looked up at Kote questioningly, blue eyes bright and clear.

Slowly he lifted his hand and carefully ran his fingers through the man’s hair. It was soft to the touch, softer than anything Kote had ever felt before. Obi-wan, his beautiful Jedi, leaned into the touch for a moment before seeming to go still. Like a cadet caught outside their bunk after hours. Kote reached out and pressed his hand to the flat of his Jedi’s back before pulling him closer. Obi-wan’s muscles twitched at the contact but he didn’t speak a word. It felt as if they were both holding their breath, waiting for something to happen.

“Ner Jetii.” Kote said quietly, leaning forward to give the man a gentle kov’nyn. Obi-wan’s presence was there, at the edge of his mind, and even if he didn’t quite know what he was doing he wrapped his own presence around the man, claiming him. His Jedi let out a gasp of surprise, fingers digging into Kote’s skin as if scrambling for something to hold onto. “Ner Jetii. Ner.” Kote growled, fingers tangling in reddish blonde hair. There were other minds there, others who had a claim on Obi-wan.

‘No!’ His mind howled as he pushed those minds farther away and circled the man protectively. One mind in particular rose to fight him, sharp and searing bright like a star. Black tendrils wound tightly around their presence like a sickness and Kote snarled. He forced them out of Obi-wan’s mind with all the power he now possessed. They were not wanted. Whatever that sickly feeling was he didn’t want it around his Jedi.

In his arms Obi-wan trembled, letting out small whimpers as he clung to Kote. By the time he was done his Jedi had practically collapsed into his arms, twitching and disoriented. Coming back to himself he gently stroked his Jedi’s hair, content that the dark sickly thing that had slowly started to creep into his mind was gone. Whatever the fuck that was could stay far away from his Jedi.

“Alor?” Obi-wan said quietly, the word naturally rolling off his tongue. Kote hummed in response, smiling down at his Jedi. “What… what did you-?” He couldn’t even finish his sentence, the sense of confusion swirling around him.

“I’m not sure, ner Jetii.” He said honestly. Whatever it was had been entirely instinctual. Something he just felt he had to do, to keep one of his own safe. Energy pulsed beneath his skin, pleased and triumphant. “But it was for your own good. I promise.” The man looked up at him, anxious, and Kote did his best to drown the feeling in calm, safety, and contentment. His Jedi hesitated before accepting what he was sending and settling down further.

They stay like that for a little while, exploring each other through this new connection they shared when Obi-wan suddenly sneezed. Kote realized they were half naked in the fresher and it was no warmer than anywhere else on Tipoca. He wrapped his arms around Obi-wan even more, hoping to warm him up a little. He’d have to turn up the heat.

“I’ll be fine. It shouldn’t take long for me to adapt.” Kote blinked before he remembered his earlier research into Stewjon and their people. “It’s also a lot more difficult for me to fall sick than other near-humans.” He nodded in understanding.

“Still, we should get warm.” Letting the man go, reluctantly, he gathered up the items from the medkit and put them away properly. There was no reason to leave behind a mess for later when it could be dealt with immediately.

Finding the bedroom he tilted his head, watching his Jedi curiously as the man stared down at the large bed. Compared to his bunk the damn thing was massive. It could probably fit his entire squad, as long as Fox kept his damn limbs to himself and Wolffe didn’t roll around in his sleep.

Coming up to stand behind Obi-wan he reached out and brushed his hand across the back of his neck. The man knew he was there, he could feel that tingle of awareness in the back of his mind. “Something wrong?” His Jedi felt embarrassed, almost shy.

“There are no guest rooms in this suite.” Kote snorted in amusement. As if he’d let his Jedi sleep in another room without him. Leaning down slightly he nuzzled Obi-wan’s neck, wanting to reassure him in some way.

“We don’t need one.” He could feel Obi-wan’s pulse quicken beneath his lips and felt his own racing to catch up. There was warmth flooding through his veins and he could feel the need to prove his worth clashing with his need to show Obi-wan who was in charge.

“I…” Conflicting feelings of interest and arousal mixed with worry and fear. Kote was alarmed enough to pull back, giving the man space. But the feelings didn’t go away. If anything another more complicated mix of want, need, please-don’t-leave flooded the space between them. Obi-wan turned and reached for him before hesitating.

“I’m not going to hurt you, ner Jetii. I’m not going to leave either. I swear.” The man looked right into his eyes, searching his mind to test if he was telling the truth. Kote would have been angry that he wasn’t being taken at his word if he wasn’t so concerned about who had treated his Jedi so poorly the man found it hard to trust. Kote closed the gap between them and cupped Obi-wan’s face in his hands. When their lips met it was like the sun finally breaking out from behind the clouds after a thunderstorm. Bright, warm, and beautiful.

Reluctantly he pulled away when the need for air became too great. Panting he grinned at the flushed face of his Jedi. There was eagerness there, a sense of interest and curiosity. But beneath it all was weariness and Kote knew if he continued now he wouldn’t be able to stop.

With immense reluctance he reigned himself in. Years of harsh training in keeping his emotions in check made it easier than it otherwise would have been. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Bed, ner Jetii. We can explore this later.” The redhead nibbled on his bottom lip and nodded in acquiescence.

They climbed into bed and turned out the lights. Rolling onto his side he pulled his beautiful Jedi to him and pressed his nose against his neck. Something deep inside him rumbled in content, happy to let its champion have this moment of respite. For now they would rest. Later the work to rebuild would begin.

* * *

“Ani! What is it? What’s happening?” Padme hovered nearby, hands trembling as she tried to call out to him. A moment ago Anakin had gripped his head and started screaming for no reason. His entire boy shook with strain and he knelt in the sand, voice ragged with pain.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the young man collapsed, his entire body shaking. Quickly she went to him, cradling his head against her chest. He grabbed onto her, like a scared child, as his blue eyes came in and out of focus. He lay there, the only sound around them his harsh breathing and her gentle reassurances. Eventually it was as if he was finally able to see her.

“What happened Ani? Are you alright?” Tears ran down his face and she started in surprise. There was so much grief in him already after the death of his mother but the look on his face… he was absolutely devastated.

“It’s Obi-wan.” Padme felt her breath halt in her lungs, dreading what would come next. “He’s… gone.” She didn’t need to ask what he meant. The look in his eyes was all she needed. She curled around him, as if she could shield him from the harshness of the world.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispered. “He was a good man.” Anakin sobbed.

“He was the only father I ever knew.” His voice cracked and Padme’s heart broke.

“We’ll get to the bottom of this.” She swore. “We’ll find out who did this.” He stared up at her and a new light entered his eyes. It was the same burning anger she had seen when he came back from trying to save his mother.

“I’ll kill them. Whoever did this- I’ll kill them for taking him from me.” He swore. Padme swallowed the lump in her throat, the shiver of fear that ran through her, and nodded.

It was not the Naboo way to seek revenge. But… Master Kenobi had helped to free her planet from the Trade Federation and lost his Master in the process. The least she could do is help his pseudo son avenge the man’s death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a
> 
> Osik- Shit  
> Ori'vod- Elder sibling/Older Brother  
> Ner Jetii- My Jedi.  
> Ner- My/Mine  
> Alor- Sir/Leader/Chief


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter is an Obi POV, promise.

Six or perhaps seven hours later, Kote was dragged back to wakefulness. He knew he had early morning drills but he really didn’t want to move. He was comfortable and warm, the scent of flowers making him feel calm and relaxed. His arms tightened on the warm body he was curled around. For a moment he just lay there, existing. Then his mind registered multiple things at once and his amber eyes snapped open in surprise.

Laying on his arm, hair in disarray, was the redheaded Jedi from the day before. ‘Obi-wan.’ His mind supplied as he glanced around the room with a critical eye. ‘So it wasn’t a dream then.’ Slowly a wide grin crossed his face and he shoved his nose against the man’s neck, enjoying the flowery, earthy, scent that was uniquely Obi-wan. His Jedi let out a small groan and opened his liquid blue eyes. He seemed confused for a moment, a small pout crossing his lips and his nose crinkling. Kote felt a sudden bout of mischievousness and playfully nibbled on the place where neck and shoulder met.

A surprised gasp left his Jedi and he arched back into Kote. There was a flash of heat down his spine and he smirked as those blue eyes turned to regard him shyly, face flushed. “It’s morning, ner Jetii.” He said as he sat up to stretch. He caught the man staring at him as the muscles in his back rippled and let out a rumble of approval. His Jedi should appreciate his powerful build. Kote had been made for him, after all.

“I don’t suppose you’d have any tea?” He asked, trying to feign innocence. Kote snorted in amusement.

“It depends on what sort. The trainers will have some, most probably shig.” Speaking of the trainers he wondered what 17 and Ordo had decided to do with them. He highly doubted Ordo would let anything happen to his buir. So at least Skirata would have been spared. Priest, however… The very thought of him made Kote want to snarl in rage. Not only was he an absolute kriffing nightmare to the vode he’d even attacked Kote’s Jedi.

An unforgivable offense in his eyes.

A small feeling of alarm had him blinking and looking over at Obi-wan, who was watching him warily beneath long lashes. He frowned. “You can feel my anger.” Obi-wan slowly nodded and Kote sighed. “I’m not angry with you, ner Jetii.” The man shook his head.

“I know, but your anger is… potent.” Turning he looked down at Obi-wan. There was something almost brittle about his Jedi’s expression that he really didn’t like.

“You’ll have to get used to it, ner Jetii. The vode feel emotions very deeply.” And he had the feeling that with Obi-wan connected to him his Jedi would be able to feel the vode even more clearly now.

The noise of a door opening from somewhere in the suite made Kote tense, reaching for weapons that weren’t there. Likewise his Jedi reached for his belt only to realize his lightsaber wasn’t there either. “It’s just me, vod.” Knowing that voice anywhere he instantly relaxed and sent a feeling of safety to Obi-wan. The man glanced at him for a moment before looking toward the door.

Rex entered the room, fully armored sans helmet, and gave him a cheeky salute. His eyes strayed toward Obi-wan and Kote was a little surprised at the lack of hostility he felt at the action. Either what he did earlier to connect he and Obi-wan together made Kote feel more secure with others staring, or Rex being his second made him feel like less of a threat. The fact that he was Kote’s favourite, most trusted, vod probably had something to do with it as well. “You weren’t answering your comm and 17 suggested you might be… pre-occupied.” There was a faint blush on his vod’s face and Kote couldn’t help snickering.

“What’s so important this early when there are no drills to run?” Rex made a face.

“Actually the Alpha vode are running the cadets through their drills, trying to keep them to a familiar schedule so they don’t freak out.” Rex’s eyes sharpened and Kote sat up straighter in response. “The Cuy’val Dar want to talk to you. Skirata seems to be their spokesperson, probably due to his closeness with the Nulls.” Kote scrubbed at his face and slid out of bed.

“I’ll need my armor. I am not meeting them in my blacks.” His brother snorted and made a motion toward the door. “One of the younger vode cleaned your armor and brought it in. There’s breakfast and caf too.” He glanced at Obi-wan then away again, embarrassed. “We don’t really have any replacements for Jedi robes but we have a spare uniform for you to wear while we have them cleaned.”

“That is very kind, thank you.” Rex gave him a crooked smile.

“You’re the Be’alor. According to 17 that means you’re Kote’s. If you’re Kote’s then you’re one of us, and we take care of our own.” There was a feeling of warmth that tickled the back of his mind and he smiled over at Obi-wan, knowing his Jedi was the source.

Getting out of bed Obi-wan followed him out into the main room. When Kote seemed more eager for food and caf than getting dressed his Jedi chuckled and stole the fresher first. As soon as they heard the water running Rex turned to him.

“Gods, Kote.” He breathed, sounding awed. “You’re such a lucky shabuir.” He couldn’t help the smug feeling of satisfaction that brought a wide grin to his face.

“Well there had to be a few perks that came with being the Mand’alor.” He snickered. “Now if only 17 would actually tell me what the kriff they are I’d be happy.” Rex snorted.

“Could probably ask one of the other Alphas. They all heard the same stories from Prime.” Kote tilted his head forward, accepting the point.

They ate quietly, waiting for Kote’s Jedi to return. The fresher door opened and he turned to regard Obi-wan curiously, making the mistake of sipping on his caf as he did so. Kote choked as his caf went down the wrong tube.

Obi-wan stood there, distracted, as he self-consciously fixed the cuffs of the borrowed blue uniform. Although it didn’t quite sit right over his shoulders it hugged his waist where the belt held the jacket closed. The color accentuated his blue eyes and made the red in his hair stand out all the more. Rex cursed under his breath in Mando’a.

“Alright, ner Jetii?” Obi-wan smiled at him and came to sit down at the table.

“I’ll be fine. The bacta is doing its job.” Kote raised an eyebrow at him and was given one in return. He chuckled.

“As long as you’re alright, cyare.” The man’s face flushed and Kote could feel the brush of surprised affection along their connection. “We had someone fetch you some tea. It’s probably not what you’re used to, but it’s what we have.” He received a gentle smile and his heart sped in his chest.

“Thank you, Alor. Any sort of tea would be delightful.” Rex looked at him, amused, and Kote sighed.

“You don’t have to call me Alor, Obi-wan. You’re one of us.” He could feel it. The connections were like a large web with Rex, his batch mates, and Obi-wan at the center. Just outside that was 17 and the other leaders, their strength bolstering his own. Beyond that he could feel every single brother at the edge of his awareness and even newer connections that had been forged when he’d been declared Mand’alor. “Call me Kote.”

“Of course, Kote.” His Jedi said with a shy smile as he looked over the meal that had been set before him. Taking a bite of the hot cereal he chewed and swallowed politely before speaking again. “What’s the plan for today?” Rex blinked, surprised by the question. Kote looked over at his second in amusement.

“I have no idea. I’ll have to wait for the reports to see what can be done first. I know that Fox still needs to pick the rest of his team before he can interrogate the long-necks.” At Obi-wan’s frown Kote huffed. “The Kaminiise.” Understanding dawned and he could feel a sudden flash of ice cold anger that just as quickly disappeared.

“What was that?” Rex looked at him, shifting in his seat slightly so he could keep an eye on Kote and Obi-wan at the same time. “Obi-wan. What was that?” The Jedi winced.

“I must admit that I am in need of meditation if my emotions are getting away with me like this.” Kote growled. That wasn’t an answer to his question. “I… A Jedi is supposed to be impartial but I must admit to bias against them for what they’ve done here.” A faint feeling of revulsion rolled through him and he grimaced. “This is worse than slavery.” And judging by how he felt, how his prim accent curled disgustedly around the word, he had a very low opinion of that.

“Another thing that the Kaminiise taught us that doesn’t add up.” Rex nodded, knowing that his brother had never really believed in what the Kaminiise were telling them. Honestly though. They trained the clones for war, trained them to be tactical thinkers and quick problem solvers. They had even fiddled with their genetics so they could think faster on their feet and retain more information. It was just a manner of time before one of his brothers started to question the long-necks lack of logic and bring up the many gaps in their teachings.

Of course none of them would have dared before. Not with the threat of decommissioning hanging over entire batches heads. But now that the long-necks were either dead or captured Kote would get his answers.

“I’m going to assume that the Jedi as a whole are against slavery?”

“Of course! Slavery is absolutely abhorrent. Taking someone’s free will away from them…” Obi-wan frowned. “Which is why we want to get to the bottom of who ordered your creation. Whoever did so couldn’t have been doing it for the Order, not if they understood anything about Jedi and our philosophies.” He rubbed at his temple and sighed. “I wish I’d been able to detain Jango and get to the bottom of this. I knew he was hiding something from me.”

“It’s alright Sir, we’ll get to the bottom of this.” Rex said with a confident smile. “You’re joining the interrogation team, right?” Obi-wan nodded.

“It’s where I would be most useful.” Kote frowned at that but didn’t say anything. It was true that a jetii would be useful on the interrogation team but to go so far as to say it would be where he was most useful? That bothered him in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

“For now we’ll finish breakfast and meet with Skirata. Anything I should know?” He turned to Rex.

“The Non-Mando trainers were gathered up and put in one of the smaller training halls until you’re ready to talk to them. We’ve given them everything they need plus a guard, so they don’t try to escape. 17 thought you might want to talk to them before deciding what to do. He thinks we should kill them so no one can trace them back here but the younger vode were distressed at the idea. Some of them have very good things to say about a few of them.” Kote nodded in understanding before looking over at Obi-wan.

“We should deal with Skirata first, he’ll have some idea why Jango hired the other trainers and what we can do with them.” Getting up from the table he took the bundle of armor Rex handed him and headed into the fresher for a quick shower. When he came out again he smiled at Rex and Obi-wan. Both of them were smiling at one another and it filled him with warmth to see his closest vod and his Jedi getting along.

“Alright, if you’re both finished we should get going. We have work to do.” Rex grinned at him, giving him a cheeky salute.

“Yes, Sir.” Obi-wan hesitated but stood.

“Obi-wan, are you finished eating? Is that all you’re going to have?” He looked at the half eaten meal and frowned.

“Ah, I’m not particularly hungry…” His words tapered off as Rex and Kote shared a look.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you getting sick or fainting later from lack of nutrition.” The vode had a very strict diet for a reason. “I’m not sure what’s normal for your species, ner jetii.” He said warmly, pushing his concern along their connection. The redhead shuddered slightly at the feeling, closing his eyes for a moment.

“I am fine for now, I will eat a larger meal later I assure you. First meal has never been my favourite…” Ah, he could understand that. There were some vode who were not at their best right after waking, although they hid it well. He supposed they wouldn’t need to hide it any more, now that the long-necks were no longer in control.

“I’ll hold you to that, ner jetii.” He said, eyeing the redhead. His Jedi just huffed in amusement and fell in behind him on his left, leaving space for Rex on his right. It was as if something he’d been missing his entire life had finally snapped into place.

Silently as they left his new quarters Kote thanked the Manda and the Force. For the first time since he’d been decanted he felt as if he was right where he was meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations;
> 
> Shig- Mandalorian style tea, usually made with whatever herbs are available.  
> Cu’val Dar- Those who no longer exist. What the 75 Mandalorian Trainers, and 25 Non-Mandalorian Trainers, of Kamino are called.  
> Be’alor- Meaning ‘Belonging to the Mand’alor.’ A word I didn’t come up with but will shamelessly use in this fic as it sounds more possessive than my usual Rid’alor.  
> Shabuir- Bastard.  
> Cyare- Beloved.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mace and Obi POVs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a Monster to write. I hope you're all ready.

“It should be noted in the initiates files that anyone with Stewjoni heritage is flagged as being warned away from the Mandalore sector, and from taking missions that may involve Mandalorians. This is because Stewjonians are highly sought after by the more… traditional clans of the Mandalorians.” Mace could already feel the tension in the back of his skull as Knight Eniker continued to speak for the group. “Stewjon and Mandalore have a-” The man hissed and they could all feel the wave of pain and denial that came over him. One of the other Knights, a woman with hair that was closer to brown than red, stepped forward and soothed the pain with the force. But it felt a little strange, almost foreign. It was not the dark side but he could see some of the other councilors watching the group carefully.

“Thank you, Tan-lee.” Knight Eniker said politely before turning back to them and wetting his lips. “You all know that slavers appreciate the adaptability of the Stewjonian people but have a hard time catching any of us.” Us. Not them. They weren’t speaking to him as Jedi right now, but as concerned Stewjonians, this could not bode well.

“Stewjon has never formally asked the Jedi for assistance, however we do know a few of our Knights have been diverted a time or two in order to help them.” The Knights in question being the ones standing before them now, who were all looking a little sheepish.

“It’s part of the- ah. When we return home we make a… promise to aid any Stewjoni outside of Stewjon if they are in need. We can’t- I mean…” It was clear that the man was having trouble, his words seeming to cut off randomly and that feeling of denial was sharp in the force. Something, or someone, was forbidding him to speak.

“As part of some cultural expectation, that the Jedi as a whole are not privy too, you are bound by your homeworld to help your people if they are in need of outside aid. That is one of the stipulations for Stewjonians to become Jedi in the first place, isn’t it?” The man sagged in relief and smiled at Master Koth gratefully.

“The only other people who can… divert us from a mission are certain… traditional Mandalorians. They have-” The man actually flinched back this time, as if he was being struck. Master Allie rose from her chair and went over to him, placing a hand on his temple. She frowned at what she found.

“This is some sort of strong compulsion. Made by a large group instead of an individual. He physically cannot tell us everything he wishes to, unless he wants to suffer intense pain and even death.” Mace could feel the way the other councilors shifted uncomfortably around him. He was certain he was doing much the same. Such a thing was not looked upon favorably by the Order. Forcing someone to obey and hurting them when they did not reeked of slavery.

“We all made the decision and agreed to it, Master Allie. For our own safety and the safety of our people.” It sounded like a rehearsed answer but the force told him it was not a lie.

“How does the Mand’alor tie into this?” The group stiffened and looked at one another, wary. Knight Eniker looked at the woman who had healed him and gave her a grim smile.

“Oritan, azreihk’gai.” Mace frowned, it was not a language he recognized. The female knight stepped forward again and placed a hand on his shoulder, doing something in the force he couldn’t quite grasp. Master Allie frowned in concern but said nothing as they all waited.

“The Mand’alor is our king, and we will answer when he calls.” There was a breathless moment of realization before the Knight’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and he dropped like a stone.

Mace wasn’t the only one on their feet and hoping that the knight hadn’t pushed himself too far. Knight Oritan and Master Allie shooed everyone away and checked to ensure the unconscious knight was okay.

“He’ll be fine once he wakes up, a little disoriented and with a massive headache, but fine. You,” she pointed to Knight Oritan, “took some of the pain onto yourself didn’t you?” The Knight nodded. “Then you’re also coming to the Halls of Healing with me.” She didn’t argue, just helped the Master to lift the unconscious knight before bowing to the room and leaving.

Mace sat back down again, placing a hand against his forehead. He would be seeing Master Che himself later for a remedy to his current headache.

“Anything more, have you to say?” Looking back up at the group of redheaded knights he saw them looking at one another before a new knight stepped forward. Knight Far-kai Alifar, Mace had met him a couple of times in the salles.

“We have concerns about Knight Kenobi. He has never returned to Stewjon and gone through the… appropriate training. His mind will be more… susceptible to outside influence.” Mace stiffened.

“Obi-wan spent a year on Mandalore and didn’t have any problems with the Mandalorians there.” Master Rancisis stated. The group let out a collective feeling of distress that had the members of the council trying to soothe them through the force. It worked, but barely.

“From what we understand he spent a year on the run with the New Mandalorian Duchess. She couldn’t… he wouldn’t have had to mind himself around her, since she is from Kalevala and not Mandalore. Now if he had been captured by the Kyr’tsad ramikade…” Mace’s brow rose slightly in surprise. He hadn’t known that Stewjonian jedi learned the Mandalorian language.

“You do not need to answer me, but I want you to hear what I have to say.” Master Piell said gently. “Stewjon and Mandalore have some kind of connection, something that goes back long enough that it has been forgotten by the majority of the galaxy.” The knights stiffened but neither confirmed or denied it. Master Piell continued. “Some old tradition has Stewjonians deferring to the Mand’alor as their leader, so I assume the planet was either allied with or subservient to the Mandalorian empire at some point in time. Stewjonians are forbidden from speaking of it outside of their own people, because something about this information is dangerous to them, their planet, and their people. However, out of duty to the Order you came here to warn us that there is a new Mand’alor. I can only assume that you mean a true Mand’alor as New Mandalorians have their own Mand’alor and none of you have ever reacted to that news in this manner.” There was a look of relief on the knights faces and Mace wanted to applaud Even for his careful breakdown of the situation.

“We wanted to warn you because there could be-” Mace didn’t hear the rest as an unknown force suddenly slammed into his mind. It echoed like the roaring of a large predator and tore through his shields. Gritting his teeth he tried to fight it off but whatever was attacking his mind was too powerful. It tore one of his bonds loose before vanishing.

Mace blinked up at a group of worried councilors and realized he must have fallen from his chair. “Mace, are you alright? You had a seizure!” Waving off the others he slowly sat up, his head pounding like he’d just gone ten rounds with a rancor. Prodding at his bonds he found the one that was torn and felt a sudden shiver of dread. He turned to the Stewjonian knights to see them looking at one another with worry and concern.

“I assume you all felt that as well?” He asked as he stood.

“The Mand’alor has chosen a Be’alor.” One of the older knights frowned.

“But that was too fast. Either they were already on or near Stewjon or they had someone with Stewjonian blood close by who…” His mouth snapped shut and all eyes turned to Mace. “Knight Kenobi was sent on a mission?” Mace felt a seeping cold settle into his chest.

“Yes, after a Mandalorian mercenary.” They watched him, expressions grim and eyes filled with sorrow.

“I’m sorry, Master Windu. But… you are never going to get him back now. He’s… he’s gone.” The force wavered between them and Mace frowned. Something told him that Obi-wan wasn’t dead but at the same time the words they spoke were the truth.

“What do you mean by gone?” The older knight took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“He belongs to the Mand’alor now, you won’t be getting him back… he won’t want to come back.” A feeling of loss and despair fell over the council, even master Yoda, as they all realized just how much of a mess they had stumbled into.

“Obi-wan…” Mace sighed, pressing his palm against his right eye to alleviate some of the pressure in his head. “Why is it always you?”

* * *

When Obi-wan had first arrived on Kamino he didn’t realize how fast things would spiral into chaos. After fighting with Jango Fett he should have known that it was only the beginning. Nothing ever went smoothly on his missions. Why would he ever think that this would be any different?

Entering the very large training room, probably for large scale battle simulations considering how many people it looked to hold, he felt the stares of hundreds of people and shivered slightly. He followed closely behind Kote, uncertain what was going on and why. He knew that Kote and 17 were going to have some sort of duel but he was uncertain why besides the fact that it was payment for helping Obi-wan. To be perfectly honest he was not happy with the idea that Kote would be paying to help him but as the man had explained earlier, he had an ongoing rivalry with 17 so it was not entirely his fault. Just a convenient excuse.

Seeing the older clone step into the center of what appeared to be a ring of some sort a thought suddenly occurred to him. They spoke Mando’a and followed a strict hierarchy, something he’d seen before on Mandalore. Jango Fett had been a True Mandalorian, the Mand’alor even, which meant that these men were probably operating on old Mandalorian traditions. He made a worried noise in the back of his throat and hurried to catch up to Kote.

“Kote, this looks like a Battle Circle.” The men nearby who had heard him speak focused on him with interest, practically oozing curiosity and excitement in equal measure. Kote was taking off his armor as quickly as possible, eyes never leaving his soon to be opponent.

“That’s because it is.” Came the curt reply. 17 looked away from them and turned toward the audience.

 _“Who comes to challenge me?”_ Obi-wan shouldn’t have been surprised by the Mando’a but it was still a little jarring. Kote stepped into the circle when the last of his armor fell to the ground.

 _“I do.”_ Kote said, drawing himself up and holding his head high. _“Kote, of the Commanders. I challenge you for the right of Leadership.”_ Obi-wan frowned, this wasn’t something he had heard of before. 

_“Who will be the judge?”_ Another clone stepped up to the edge of the ring, grinning wildly.

 _“I will judge this contest.”_ Kote nodded, and everyone seemed to accept this man as an impartial judge.

 _“As the one being challenged I have the right to choose the contest.”_ 17 looked around at those gathered, a sense of calm assurance that everything was going the way he wanted it permeating the air around him. _“A duel. All combat styles allowed, no weapons, no armor. Until one of us either yields or falls unconscious.”_ Kote nodded, accepting the terms.

 _“What are the stakes?”_ The judge asked loudly, cutting off the chatter from the surrounding clones.

 _“If I fail, I forfeit my right to lead the others. If Kote fails he forfeits his right to lead the Commanders, and he loses his gift.”_ That term again. Obi-wan glanced around, frowning, as even the clones seemed confused by the wording. But after a moment he felt clarity and a sense of understanding before he felt scrutinized once again by hundreds of eyes.

 _“It’s settled then.”_ He turned back to 17 and Kote. _“A single duel with the right to lead on the line. 17, Kote, are you ready?”_ Both Kote and 17 nodded and the judge stepped back. Reaching up to his chest plate he began to knock his fist against his chest, following a a pattern that slowly picked up speed until it sounded as if the entire hall was filled with a complex beating of drums. A shiver ran down his spine as the hair on the back of his neck rose in response. The beat was familiar, but in the same way the voice of his mother was familiar. It was something he recognized deep down but could not explain no matter how he tried.

A low chanting started up, getting louder and more powerful as Kote and 17 began circling each other. Every clone was filled with intense focus as they watched the two combatants, the excitement like electricity dancing through the air. 17 charged and those who were not keeping up the drumming or chanting began to cheer, calling out encouragements and jeers.

The two exchanged a flurry of blows that was almost too fast for Obi-wan to follow. There was a lull in the force, almost like it was holding its breath, and it made him swallow nervously. Something big was about to happen, something that would change the very fate of the galaxy.

17 slammed his fist into the side of Kote’s face and Obi-wan took a step forward before forcing himself to stop. To enter the circle would be to disqualify Kote and this fight was far too intense for it to be some frivolous thing. Blood splattered onto the ground and he had to bit his lip not to stop them. This was not his culture, he had no right to intervene. He was here as an observer and nothing more.

Kote looked right at him, as if sensing his desire to interfere. He smiled and gave the man an encouraging nod, even as he felt concern gnawing at the inside of his stomach.

As if bolstered by the reassurance Kote snarled and bodily threw himself at 17, diving in low and throwing his entire body weight into the tackle. It was brutal but efficient. 17 reached down to grab him around the waist, either to throw him off or target something sensitive. He wasn’t quite sure what happened next. One moment 17 seemed to have the upper hand then the next moment 17 was falling. His head slammed into the floor and Kote kicked him for good measure. Obi-wan winced. 17 probably wouldn’t be getting up any time soon.

17 tried to lift himself up but the multiple blows to the head must have left him too disoriented and weak to do so. The third clone stepped into the ring and the chant immediately died. The silence let in its wake was eerie as all eyes focused on the judge. Anticipation and excitement filled the room and Obi-wan was certain that even a force null would have been able to feel it thrumming against their skin.

The judge helped 17 to stand, allowing the slightly larger clone to lean against him.

 _“I submit.”_ He coughed before clearing his throat. _“I forfeit my right to lead the Alphas.”_ Obi-wan felt relieved that the fight was over. _“I forfeit my right to lead the Commandos.”_ The clones nearby began to murmur to themselves, feeling confused and a little surprised in the force. _“And I forfeit my right to lead the Nulls.”_ Startled shouts of denial rang out and Obi-wan looked around in befuddlement. 

Another clone stepped forward, feeling similar to the judge in the force. _“17 won the right to lead my brothers and I.”_ He said loudly, cutting off more shouts and denials.

 _“We challenged 17 for the right to lead. We lost.”_ The leader of a group of men with slightly different armor stated firmly.

Kote looked as if someone had slapped him upside the head and told him he was a fish. 17 began to laugh, it was both joyful and terrifying in equal measure.

 _“Oya Manda!”_ 17 said above the din, silencing everyone else. _“Brothers, rejoice! For today Kote has done what no one has in millennia! He fought for you, for all the vode, and now stands as the sole champion.”_ That low thrumming along his skin was growing warmer and Obi-wan felt as if he was frozen in place. Something was building in his chest that made it hard for him to breathe. What was the force trying to tell him?

 _“Kneel and submit. For today we crown a true Mand’alor!”_ With those words the entire word fell away as a burning heat seared itself into his brain. It filled his body and swamped his mind, dulling the bonds he shared with his fellow jedi. Something quite like a memory flashed before his eyes, although he knew he had never lived it.

* * *

_‘Kneel before your King! From this day forth all who reside here will embrace Manda’s power and fall under the control of Mandalore.’ A deep voice stated with a rumbling growl._

The memories shifted.

_‘I am Obi-jul Harobi, my King. I have been chosen by my Clan to serve, in life or death.’ A man with long plaited red hair knelt in supplication before an armored figure. He could sense this man’s emotions as if they were his own. Duty, loyalty, courage, and a willingness to serve the godlike beings that had come to them from the stars, raining down holy fire on their enemies centuries ago. He knew that the gods demanded lives as a sacrifice to show fealty and had willingly put his name forth. He had no close family and was an excellent warrior. Someone who would not be mourned but who would not bring dishonor on their people. The armored figure reached down and gripped his chin, tilting his head upward in order to look him in the eyes._

_‘You will do.’ The armored figure growled, the sound making Obi-jul shudder in a mix of anticipation and fear. ‘You will do nicely.’ The figure let go of his chin and reached up to lift off their helmet. Obi-wan was met with the sight of grayish skin and vibrant yellow eyes. ‘Repeat after me.’ Obi-jul nodded. ‘We are one when we’re together-’_

Another shift.

_Obi-jul looked down at the small bundle in her arms. It had been a painful process, forcing herself to undergo the Change so that she might bear children, but in the end it had all been worth it. Their little Ge’talin was strong and healthy. They would make a wonderful warrior some day. They were even exhibiting the first stages of their Awakening, already able to pull small objects towards them and sending their emotions to others. A familiar presence at her back made Obi-jul look up and she smiled. ‘Alor, you’re home.’ Her husband, Mand’alor Tal’ranga, looked down at them both, a warm light in his eyes. He leaned down and gently pressed his forehead against hers._

_‘I have returned, my mate.’_

* * *

Blinking as a voice called out to him he saw the face of his Mand’alor and smiled gently. The warm haze of affection and belonging still sitting warmly in his chest. “Yes, Alor?” A rumble of approval came from his Mand’alor and Obi-wan felt pleased to have received it. The Mand’alor’s hand came up to caress his face and he leaned into the touch. He was grateful that his husband had returned from the war unscathed, now he could finally hold their child and…

No. That was wrong. Obi-wan was not married, he was a Jedi. The Jedi did not form attachments. They did not have children.

Obi-wan jerked back, away from the stranger in front of him, and felt a sense of alarm. A low sound of distress came from the man in front of him and he winced, feeling as if he had just done something wrong.

An explosion in the distance made his Mand’alor leap to his feet, pulling Obi-wan along with him. More explosions went off and he turned worried eyes to his Alor. There was a simmering anger growing beneath the surface, held firmly in check by a calm and rational mind.

“What the hell is going on?” He barked in a battlefield voice, making Obi-wan flinch slightly. He would have moved away but his Mand’alor had yet to let go of his wrist. One of the other clones, Ordo something whispered, stepped up next to them.

“A revolution.” Obi-wan’s stomach dropped and he wanted to groan. Of course he would show up on a planet on the eve of a revolt. That was just his luck.

At least Anakin wasn’t with him at this time. That would have been an absolute disaster.

* * *

Obi-wan had to use the force to keep up with his Mand’alor as the man stormed down the halls like an angry predator, barking orders and demanding answers into his wrist comm, the only armor he had grabbed before hurrying toward what the clones were calling the Temporary War Room. He didn’t think Ko- Alor knew he had a hold of Obi-wan’s wrist, he was far too focused on the revolution being carried out in his name.

“Why did no one ever inform me that you crazy bastards were planning a hostile takeover? Some advanced warning would have been nice!” He snarled as they entered into the large command center the clones were working from. Everywhere he looked men in armor were scurrying about, attending to the tasks they had been ordered to do..

“We didn’t know when you’d be ready to take your rightful place as Mand’alor. If we’d tried to bring you in early you would have left everything up to us and tried to fade into the background vod’ika.” From the way the Mand’alor grumbled and glared at 17 the man must have been right. To be honest Obi-wan was fairly certain he was right, from what little he’d been able to learn of the Mand’alor’s personality.

“Status report!” The man ordered the nearest armored individual.

“We’ve taken out the security forces, stopped all outgoing communication, rerouted the emergency power, taken the landing pads, and destroyed all exits to the city.” He had to admit he was impressed. But then again these men had been trained for war by Jango Fett and a whole host of Mandalorian warriors.

That didn’t mean he agreed with it, however.

“Is all of this strictly necessary?” He asked before he could stop himself. Everyone turned toward him and he was felt a slight bit of guilt/sheepishness from where the Mand’alor was holding onto his wrist. Ah, the man had forgotten after all.

“This is a slave revolt. It’s necessary.” 17 stated firmly. Ordo nodded curtly, lips drawn into a thin line.

“Oh, then by all means.” He said carefully, trying to keep all inflection from his voice. He could admit to being woefully out of his depth and fear roiled around in his gut as the clones displeasure was aimed at him.

“Are we taking prisoners?” As Ordo stepped closer to hand the Mand’alor a datapad he finally let go of Obi-wan’s wrist. Thankful that he could put some space between himself and the clearly displeased clones he took a step away from the Mand’alor, intent on going over to peer at some of the work the slicers were doing.

“Do not leave my side.” Came a commanding growl. Obi-wan stopped, his entire body freezing in place at the command. Deep in his mind he felt the instinctual need to obey that voice, his true King, and it filled him with fear. He was finding it increasingly difficult to manage his own emotions and to control his actions. The forceful and overpowering emotions of the Mand’alor were just too much for him to handle. With immense effort he erected a barrier between them, cutting off the man’s emotions and giving himself some breathing room to try and figure out what was going on.

Obi-wan saw the Mand’alor frown at him and had to look away, ducking his head to avoid his eyes. If he even caught a hint of displeasure from the man he was certain he would drop the barrier, whether he wanted to or not.

The revolt continued and Obi-wan carefully gave them his input when prompted. The strategies he suggested they use made the clones eye him, their regard for him rising the more involved he became. It was obvious that Ordo and 17 hadn’t expected much from him, perhaps they had known the fact that Jedi were not General material, and they were surprised by his competency.

He heard Ordo mutter to 17 at one point that ‘the flower has more bite than I expected.’ Obi-wan had glared at Ordo as 17 explained that he knew Mando’a, and had heard him. The Null clone had just turned to him with a contemplative look on his face before turning back to the holotable.

A grueling six and a half hours of fast paced warfare later and the entire city of Tipoca was secured. 17 urged the Mand’alor to take a break somewhere where they would be able to rest, considering they’d both fought one on one duels before the revolution had even started. Obi-wan would have protested that he was fine, he had the Force, but one look from the Mand’alor and he caved.

Entering the opulent suite he could feel the faint echo of curiosity/discomfort coming off the Mand’alor and wondered if the man had ever even been in a proper suite before. From what he had seen of the barracks it looked as if even the highest ranked clones had slept in small, cramped, spaces surrounded by other clones. A hand on his arm made him turn to look the Mand’alor in the eyes. Warmth like a banked fire and warm tea in his hands seeped into his mind and he flinched away, eyes falling to the floor.

He didn’t like how easy it was for this man to slide into his mind; like he had been there all along. Like he belonged there.

The Mand’alor cleared is throat and motioned toward the Fresher, feeling mildly agitated in the force. “We should get cleaned up. Both of us took a couple of bad hits before all this osik started.” Glancing over at the fresher then back at his Mand’alor, avoiding his eyes, he gave a small nod and headed into the large room.

He noted that there were no windows or another door, nowhere to escape to if he was suddenly trapped. It did not fill him with confidence.

“You should put some bacta on that. There’s painkillers here too.” He stiffened at being spoken to directly and shifted from one foot to the other.

“I’ll be fine, I assure you.” He could feel the Mand’alor’s displeasure like an itch in the back of his mind. “Would you like assistance with your own injuries?” He asked, trying to appease the man.

“My fight with 17 wasn’t to the death, like yours and the Prime’s. Besides, you should get warm. Kamino’s ocean is freezing this time of year.” Obi-wan opened his mouth to deny that he needed any help, he was a Jedi for Force’s sake. “Just take off your robes, Obi-wan.” He snapped with a growl.

Obi-wan’s eyes went wide and a feeling of cold dread settled over him. He could feel his control slipping as the need to please his King reasserted itself. His Mand’alor frowned but it was all concern, no anger. “You’re going to get sick.” He said quietly as he slowly pulled out the medical supplies they would need. “Let me help you.” The pure concern that came from him, with no ulterior motive, filled Obi-wan with warmth and he found his resolve melting away. Biting his lower lip he took a moment to steel himself before slipping out of his robes.

The Mand’alor let out a small sigh of relief and stepped closer, carefully applying bacta and checking on his wounds. The way his hands gently roamed his body made Obi-wan shiver. He could feel the awe and appreciation coming from his Mand’alor and it chipped away at the barrier until there was no point in keeping them. Letting them fall he decided to try probing back. He let the man feel his own curiosity and interest, keeping as much of his wariness out of it as he could.

“I believe I’ll be alright now. Thank you.” He said while trying to pull away slightly. “Your turn.” He smiled, voice playful, as he reached into the medical kit.

His Mand’alor stripped out of the top part of his thermal suit and Obi-wan felt his face heating up. He quickly moved on to treating the man’s injuries, trying to keep his thoughts on his work and not be pulled along by the vague sensations that screamed for his attention in the back of his mind.

He felt a faint tug on his mind and looked up at his Mand’alor questioningly. Jedi only sent that kind of mental tug when they wanted the attention and whole focus of another.

As if he were moving through syrup the Mand’alor reached up and gently ran his fingers through Obi-wan’s hair, as if he were possessed and couldn’t stop himself. Obi-wan, who had always enjoyed others playing with his hair, leaned into the touch, feeling relaxed and calm. Then he registered what he was doing and chided himself. He could not let himself lose control like this.

A broad hand pressed into his back and urged him forward, pulling him closer. Obi-wan twitched at the warm contact against his cool skin but didn’t say anything. It felt as if talking would ruin the moment somehow. And yet he could feel something in the silence between them. The Mand’alor leaned forward and gave him a gentle kov’nyn. “Ner Jetii.” He claimed quietly.

Obi-wan felt the warmth between them ignite into a raging inferno as it circled his mind, snapping at his bonds and pushing everything away. For the first time in years Obi-wan felt as if he were able to breathe. As if something that had been slowly strangling him had finally let go. He gasped in surprise as he looked inward, watching a giant creature made of searing light settle into the back of his mind as if it belonged there.

He didn’t dare go near whatever it was as it roared and snatched something up in its giant claws. The dark wriggling thing fought desperately but in the end it was reduced to ash. “Ner Jetii. Ner.” He felt the possessive words wind around him, linking their minds even more firmly as his Mand’alor laid claim to his very soul.

Fingers tangled in his hair and held him firmly in place as every bond he’d created over the years was burned away, replaced by the firm connection between Mand’alor and Be’alor. Something he couldn’t describe yet understood on an instinctual level.

He was Kote’s, and Kote was his.

Obi-wan whimpered in pain, clinging to his Mand’alor. The man wanted him, wanted him like no one else ever had. With a need so powerful he thought it might rival stars.

By the time his Mand’alor was finished Obi-wan was exhausted. He couldn’t tell which way was up or down, just immersed himself in the new network that had anchored itself into his mind.

“Alor?” He asked when he was finally coherent enough for speech. His Mand’allor smiled down at him, still stroking his hair. “What… what did you-?” He couldn’t even finish his sentence, unsure what he wanted to ask about. 

“I’m not sure, ner Jetii.” Came the honest answer. There was a sense of contentment and triumph surrounding him now. “But it was for your own good. I promise.” He looked up at his Mand’alor in concern but was met with feelings of calm and safety. Obi-wan decided it was too much work to try and interrogate him now. He was far too tired.

They stay in the fresher, standing chest to chest, as the man started sending things over their new bond, poking at Obi-wan’s mind like a curious youngling. Obi-wan allowed it and began to probe back, looking for his own answers. To his mild frustration it seemed as if Kote’s mind was a fortress, it was nearly impossible to view any memory without being led inside.

Obi-wan sneezed, hard, which suddenly broke his concentration. He should have realized standing around in a fresher with no tunic was a bad idea. Tipoca was quite cold. Arms wrapped around him, trying to share warmth, and he felt a mild flash of embarrassment.

“I’ll be fine. It shouldn’t take long for me to adapt. It’s also a lot more difficult for me to fall sick than other near-humans.” He tried to reassure.

“Still, we should get warm.” Letting the man go, reluctantly, he gathered up the items from the medkit and put them away properly. Obi-wan wondered if he should pick up his tunics but the idea of bending over at the moment was not a pleasant one. His ribs were still aching something fierce.

Finding only one bedroom he stared at the luxury bed in confusion. He felt the Mand’alor as he stepped closer, the hand against the back of his neck made him shiver. “Something wrong?” Obi-wan realized that they were both standing in a bedroom, without shirts, and that there was only a single bed in the entire suite. He couldn’t deny that the Mand’alor was very attractive, and clearly wanted him, but he was still a Jedi. This kind of situation was highly inappropriate.

“There are no guest rooms in this suite.” He said simply. Behind him the man snorted in amusement before leaning down and nuzzling into his neck.

“We don’t need one.” The heat behind the words made Obi-wan feel far too warm. He was certain that even his ears were turning red now. Something complicated filtered through the new bond, contradictory needs clashing with one another.

“I…” While he was interested, and not opposed to physical relations, there was a worry in the back of his mind that he was being influenced by the vision he’d had earlier. He was not Obi-jul and Kote was not Mand’alor Tal’ranga. They were not married.

He was suddenly afraid that he didn’t have a choice, that his Mand’alor would command it and he’d have no choice but to obey. It twisted something inside him and made him feel sick.

His Mand’alor stepped away from him, the heat doused as if cold water had been poured over it. For a single moment he thought he would be abandoned again and turned to beg the man not to leave him, like so many others had in the past.

“I’m not going to hurt you, ner Jetii. I’m not going to leave either. I swear.” Reaching out he felt the sincerity in those words, the truth behind them ringing out in the Force, and felt himself relax. His Mand’alor stepped forward and cupped his face in his hands, looking down at him with adoration. Their lips met and Obi-wan had to hold back a gasp. He swore he could hear singing as every place inside him lit up. There was a moment where everything felt just right, then it was over.

His Mand’alor pulled away with some reluctance and Obi-wan realized that he was in desperate need of air. Although the feelings of arousal and interest hadn’t dimmed he could sense the Mand’alor shoving the feelings aside as he nodded toward the bed. “Bed, ner Jetii. We can explore this later.”

Obi-wan nibbled on his bottom lip and nodded in acquiescence.

They climbed into bed and turned out the lights. Obi-wan was content to lay on his side of the bed but was not surprised when large hands gently maneuvered him until he was pressed flush against a warm body. His Mand’alor pressed his face into the crook of his neck and breathed deeply. There was a faint rumble and Obi-wan smiled tiredly. It sounded very much like the contented purring of a large creature.

He fell asleep to the shallow breaths of his Mand’alor, wondering how things would look in the morning after he’d had a good rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stewjoni Translation;  
> Azreihk’gai- Assist me/Help me.
> 
> Mando'a Translation;  
> Kov'nyn- Headbutt, when used gently it is a sign of affection.


End file.
